


The Song Remains

by Mordhena



Series: Starving til I tasted you [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel!Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 24,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: READ. AND. HEED. THE. WARNINGS! TRIGGERS! SPOILERS. DON'T READ WHAT MAY HARM.So, Gabriel is back and he's broken all in tiny pieces and what do my evil scheming plot bunnies do?Squee their damned heads off and come up with THIS, is what.Flying without a beta.Definitely a Sequel toStarving Till I Tasted You, in my Sabriel headcanon.I orginally thought this belonged in my Crowley is Asmodeus collection, but I really can't make myself associate my beloved Crowley with the Kentucky Fried Douche that Asmodeusis in canon, so unless I can find some way to marry the two in my head, it may not be a part of that series after all.Feed the bunnies (with comments) if you want more!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haggitha](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Haggitha), [under_a_grey_cloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_grey_cloud/gifts).



> READ. AND. HEED. THE. WARNINGS! TRIGGERS! SPOILERS. DON'T READ WHAT MAY HARM.
> 
> So, Gabriel is back and he's broken all in tiny pieces and what do my evil scheming plot bunnies do?  
> Squee their damned heads off and come up with THIS, is what.
> 
> Flying without a beta.
> 
> Definitely a Sequel to [Starving Till I Tasted You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582674/chapters/23388189), in my Sabriel headcanon.
> 
> I orginally thought this belonged in my Crowley is As _mo_ deus collection, but I really can't make myself associate my beloved Crowley with the Kentucky Fried Douche that Asmo _deus_ is in canon, so unless I can find some way to marry the two in my head, it may not be a part of that series after all.
> 
> Feed the bunnies (with comments) if you want more!

Gabriel hasn’t moved. Not when Sam tenderly picked the stiches from his lips. Not when Dean and Ketch stepped through the portal into what might as well be hell. Not even when Sam offered him water.

He sits huddled into himself, greasy matted tangles of hair obscuring his face. He doesn’t even rock back and forth as anyone might who is traumatized. He doesn’t tremble or blink. If Sam shifts in his seat, the archangel’s eyes snap up to follow him warily, nothing more.

Sam frowns. “Gabriel…” he keeps his voice low, but the angel reacts as though a pistol cracked right next to his ear. He wails, dives from his chair, and scuttles like a kicked dog into a corner by one of the book shelves. He covers his head with his forearms.

Sam draws a long slow breath and releases it. He thinks maybe he can imagine some of what Gabriel has endured. It’s not like Sam is any stranger to the … amenities of cages in hell. The only difference, is that when Sam came back, he had no soul. No feelings. Do archangels have souls? It’s obvious they have the capacity to feel. He only has to look at the broken creature before him to understand that, so, maybe a more primal approach.

Sam moves cautiously towards the huddled man and hunkers down. He pulls a snickers bar from the pocket of his jacket and slowly unwraps it. As he works, he tacitly ignores Gabriel, though he is aware of champagne eyes regarding him with fear.

Once the candy is unwrapped, Sam gently lays it on the floor between them. “Hungry?” He backs off a little. “I remember how much you like sugar.”

Gabriel’s hand snatches the candy bar from the floor so quickly that Sam almost doesn’t perceive the movement.  
“Hm! Mmmm! Huh!” The first vocalisations from the angel in two hours as he stuffs the chocolate into his mouth.

“You should go slow,” Sam cautions. “You don’t want to…”

Gabriel snaps him a look of terror and a moment later, pitches forward and pukes chocolate and nuts onto the war room floor.

“Get sick.”

Frantic eyes dart from the pool of vomit to Sam’s face, and back. Gabriel whimpers.

“Hey…shhh. I’m not mad. I won’t hurt you.” Sam puts out a hand to stay the archangel who's about to scrape the sticky mess up apparently to eat it again. “Don’t…”

Gabriel recoils in fright.

“I was just going to say, you don’t need to do that. I can get you another one.”

Disbelief is the best name for the look _that_ earns him.

“You’re safe here, Gabriel. It’s me, Sam.”

Gabriel’s gaze tracks from Sam to the shimmering portal in the ceiling.

“I’m not letting anything or anyone other than Dean, Mom and Jack come through that, “ Sam says.

Gabriel studies him for a second before his gaze resumes  darting about the room, whether looking for danger an escape route, or both. He swallows hard, parts his bloodied lips. ‘Kuh… Ke…eh.”

“Ketch?” Sam shrugs. “I don’t trust him. He never does anything that won’t serve whatever agenda he’s pursuing. Rescuing you, helping us?” He shakes his head. “He’ll call in the favors eventually.” Sam stands, slowly. “I’m going to get you some water, and another snickers,” he says.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s early evening before Sam tries to communicate with Gabriel again. In that time, the archangel has eaten three snickers bars, drunk several bottles of water, and picked at a sandwich Sam made for him. He’s no less wary, though, and flinches if Sam so much as clears his throat.

“Hey,” Sam says. He crosses the room as quietly as he can, and sits cross-legged on the floor a few feet away. He recalls doing this with the dog he adopted as a kid in Flagstaff. Presenting a smaller silhouette had seemed to reassure Bones. Maybe it’ll work with Gabriel. Can’t hurt to try.

“I thought you might like to take a shower, clean up a little.”

Gabriel doesn’t reply, but he inclines his head a little in Sam’s direction.

“And then maybe I could take a look at some of those cuts.” He’s concerned that Gabriel isn’t healing. “What do you say?”

Gabriel raises his head, regards Sam through narrowed eyes.

Raising both hands, Sam smiles, trying to look reassuring. “Nothing you don’t want to do. Promise. But you might feel better with clean clothes?”

The archangel passes his tongue across his lacerated lips. He closes his eyes, and gives the tiniest nod of agreement.

“Great!” Sam gets to his feet. “Do you need help to walk?”

“N…” Gabriel shakes his head emphatically and Sam backs away a pace or two.

“Okay…okay, that’s… the bathroom’s this…” He breaks off as Gabriel scrambles to his feet, and, hugging the walls and bookshelves closely, heads in the direction of the bathroom. _Of course, he’s been here before. Idiot._ Sam recalls those days after Gabriel returned from the dead, and getting to know Näshä, Gabriel’s vessel before… Sam shakes his head to clear that memory.

“I’ve laid out clean clothes for you. I hope they’ll fit. They’re Castiel’s. Maybe if you roll up the legs?”

Gabriel stops, turns to look at Sam. “Ca… Cas…?”

“Yeah, Castiel’s still around, he should _be_ here, actually. I, I’m not sure where he is.”

Gabriel nods once and then resumes stumbling towards the bathroom. Sam is tempted to follow, but something in the set of the archangel’s shoulders warns him not to. He stands there. Not sure what to do, and watches Gabriel shuffle all the way to the bathroom, step inside, and shut the door. A moment later the click of the lock tells Sam he made the right choice. He sighs, sinks down on a chair and stares at the fizzling rift in time and space that his brother and Ketch stepped through hours ago. “Cas _should_ be here,” he murmurs.

 

\--

Gabriel’s been so long in the bathroom that Sam’s beginning to worry. He gnaws at his bottom lip, torn between checking on the archangel and keeping his promise not to pressure him. He’s almost resolved to knock on the door when it opens and Gabriel emerges, swathed in an ill-fitting t-shirt and black jeans. Sam tends to forget that for all his higher rank and power above Castiel, Gabriel is quite a lot smaller. He smiles as Gabriel skulks along the hallway and, instead of huddling back into the corner, slips into a chair.

“Better?”

Gabriel nods, stiffly.

“Can I…” Sam gestures to the first aid kit he’d used to remove the stitches earlier.

Another, smaller nod and Gabriel folds his arms around himself defensively. His champagne eyes are wary as Sam approaches and he looks half inclined to bolt, but he stays while Sam takes a few items from the kit and sits in front of him.

Sam shows Gabriel the scissors, antiseptic bandages and cotton balls. “Just first aid.” He sets each item on the table next to him. “You cleaned up your mouth pretty well,” he adds.

“M-mint…y f-rr-esh.” Gabriel mutters.

Sam’s huffs a laugh. He’s not surprised by the humor, it’s a defense mechanism. One he and Dean have employed after many a hunt gone sideways. He opens the bottle of antiseptic and picks up a cotton ball. “I don’t know if this’ll sting or not…but, just be prepared.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s not real. None of it. He knows that. But it’s different. The man who calls himself Sam is new. Asmodeus has never shown the faintest hint of kindness. At best, the demon has been indifferent to Gabriel. And to think, those were the good old days, when he was imprisoned for his potential usefulness. For the most part he’d been ignored, but for the occasional bout of taunting when the mood took the prince. That was before…

Gabriel’s world has shrunk to pain, fear. Rinse. Repeat. Plus the continuous draining of his grace.

But the hurting has stopped. The water in the shower was gloriously hot, and now this gentle giant is tending to his wounds. Wounds that sting, but…the sting is nothing compared… Gabriel closes his eyes. He won’t let anticipation of what may come steal the comfort of these moments.

Sam is talking. Gabriel tries hard to focus on the words.

“So then Näshä died and you came back to yourself and then just…”

Oh. That. Gabriel lets out a breath, opens his eyes and gives Sam a dull look. He remembers the death of his vessel, a memory he’s not exactly proud of. He’d kept Näshä alive for millennia, but…wait, this guy knows about that? Gabriel is instantly suspicious.

He pulls away from Sam’s ministrations. When the guy frowns and reaches for him Gabriel makes a sound akin to a wounded cat and bolts from his chair into the hallway. He runs, bare feet slapping against the cement floor, and hurls himself through the first door that gives way to his frantic twisting of the knob. He’s in a bedroom. Gabriel scuttles inside and slams the door behind him. There’s a dresser. He hides beside it and curls himself into the smallest possible target.

\--

Sam watches helplessly as Gabriel bolts. _What did I do?_ He frowns, pushes a hand through his hair. He glances at the sizzling portal, wondering if Dean is okay. He’s got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He and Dean share a bond that is usually reserved for twins. Years of close dependency when Sam was growing up, followed by the years they’ve hunted together, lets them tune into each other’s distress. They’d become comrades in arms in their war-weary bond…this war that never ends. Sam sighs, stands up, stretches. He feels alone, and helpless. He’s tempted to throw himself into the rift and drag his brother back through.

“Hello, Sam.”

Instantly, the loneliness dissipates, Sam’s shoulders sag with relief and he turns toward the gravelly voice. “Cas!”

Blue eyes regard him calmly from across the room. The angel frowns, tips his head to one side, his gaze sweeping across the portal, the first aid kit, Sam’s strained features.

“What’s wrong?”

Sam chokes out a sound midway between a laugh and a sob. “Long story.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Chapter 4 of this story alludes to the concept of angels being unable to heal if their wings are damaged. In the interests of transparency and giving credit where it is due, I cannot claim this idea as being wholly mine. It’s hinted at in canon, but credit for the full development of that idea belongs to the amazing work and talent of NorthernSparrow, particularly in her stories titled Forgotten, and Flight. I won’t riff off her idea much more deeply than I have here, but if you haven’t read her work, I highly recommend that you do!

  
It feels good to pour out the whole story. From opening the rift, to Ketch’s arrival with Gabriel, to Dean and Ketch disappearing into the rift, to Gabriel yelping in terror and fleeing into the nearest unlocked bedroom.  
Sam lets it all out, along with a few uncomplimentary epithets aimed at his brother. Cas absorbs it all in stoic silence, but for a question here and there.

  
When the story is done, to Sam’s complete surprise, the first thing Cas does is hug him. Then he lists his own grievances in relation to Dean’s absence.

  
“Let me see him,” he says.

  
Sam huffs a breath and stands up. “You can if he stays put, but I can’t guarantee that he will. I’ve got some food ready for him, I’ll just get it from the kitchen. He responds better when he has something to eat.”

  
Castiel nods and Sam fetches the sandwiches he’d planned to offer Gabriel once he’d cleaned the archangel’s wounds.

  
The door to Gabriel’s bolt-hole is not locked. Sam steps inside with Castiel close on his heels. At first glance, the room appears to be empty, but then Sam spies Gabriel huddled into an impossibly small heap of limbs and hair on the far side of the dresser.

  
“Gabriel?” Sam says.

  
There’s no response. Sam glances at Castiel.

  
“You didn’t say he was this bad,” Castiel chides.

  
Sam shrugs and steps a little closer to the archangel. “I brought you some sandwiches. PBJ…you enjoyed those earlier.” He pauses, perhaps he imagines the tiny movement in response. But then Gabriel slowly lifts his head. His gold-hued eyes scan the room. When he sees Castiel he sits a little straighter and then kind of crab-walks to the bed, climbs onto it, and sits cross-legged, staring at some distant point straight ahead of him.

  
Sam sets the plate of sandwiches on the bed, and removes the cloche he’d used to keep the bread from drying out. He glances at Castiel. “He doesn’t seem to be healing. I’m worried.”

  
“He can’t,” Castiel replies. “His grace is too low.”

  
“Oh…” Sam turns his attention to Gabriel, who has picked up one of the sandwiches and is chewing a mouthful. The action is stiff, mechanical. Gabriel doesn’t seem aware of what he’s doing. Sam wonders if ‘enjoyed’ was the right word to describe this process after all.

  
“Can you help him? I mean…you could feed him some of your grace. Lucifer was taking grace from…”

  
“It wouldn’t help in this case.” Castiel shakes his head. “Lucifer was not… Lucifer has his wings.”

  
“What? His wings? What does…”

  
“Gabriel’s wings are broken. The same way mine were. If an angel—or an archangel—has damaged wings, it inhibits…” Castiel sighs. “It’s complex. Anyway, giving him my grace wouldn’t help.”

  
“You could heal him, then.”

  
“No. It is impossible for an angel—even a Seraph—to heal an archangel. I don’t have that kind of power.”

  
“There has to be something we can do.”

  
“I know of two beings on this plane who are capable of healing him,” Castiel says. “My father, and… Lucifer.”

  
Sam rakes both hands though his hair. “I have them both on speed dial,” he snarks.

  
“There are other options.”

  
“I’m listening.” As he speaks, Sam hunkers down in front of Gabriel and puts a hand on the archangel’s knee. “Hey, Gabriel? It’s me. Sam. Sam Winchester.”

  
“I don’t think he knows you, Sam.”

  
Sam sighs. “So what else can we do for him?”

  
“If he could return to heaven…”

  
Sam scoffs. “Like _that’s_ gonna happen. What else?”

  
Castiel hesitates. Sam turns to look at him. “What, Cas?”

“You said that Ketch brought a phial of grace back with him?”

  
Sam studies the angel for a moment. “To open another rift.”

  
“If Gabriel were to take that…”

  
“But it’s all we have.”

  
“If Gabriel were to take it, he might have the power to heal his wings. He would have more than enough grace to give you.”

  
Sam closes his eyes for a moment. The last time he and Dean helped Gabriel to heal, the archangel had vanished without a trace nor a word of warning. Sam had smothered the hurt of that, absorbed it. Getting on with hunting, looking for Kelly, then looking for Jack, then…whatever else needed to be done. Still the sting had been there, like a cut, festering under a poorly applied bandage. Something you can pretend to ignore, tune it out, but who are you kidding? The nagging ache is unrelenting.

  
“Sam…”

  
“I… I’ll think about it,” Sam stalls. He looks into Gabriel’s eyes. Blank, glazed. No hint of recognition. _What happened to you? Why didn’t you tell me you were going? Have you been in hell this whole time? It’s been…a year? I lost you for three years, and then you came back and it was supposed to be…_

Sam shakes himself, lets his hand fall from Gabriel’s knee. He stands up and walks quickly out of the room. He can’t look at Gabriel any longer. He wants to know why he’d disappeared, what happened, if maybe Gabriel hadn’t intended to abandon him, but at the same time, he’s afraid to hear the story.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of this chapter is a retrospective of 13X18 I claim no onwership of those ideas.

So this Sam guy wants to hear his story. Gabriel doesn’t understand why. Why does it mean anything to the giant, why Gabriel went AWOL? Why he quit on his family and walked away? It doesn’t make sense.

Gabriel has locked all of that away, deep inside where even _he_ can’t see. He knows where that locked door is, but he’s reluctant—maybe even afraid—to open it.

Yet, something about Sam… Something deep seated and familiar—unfamiliar tugs at Gabriel. It’s insistent. He finds himself standing outside that door. There are memories in there which he never speaks of, never even thinks about. Events from before the fall and after. Some of those he can’t bear to unbury, but there’s some that he might be able to explain if…

In his mind, he reaches out and pushes the door open.

Gabriel whimpers. Screws his eyes tight against the flood of memories. Around him, the bedroom walls light up brilliant opalescent yellow, blue, green, shot through with flashes of bright vermillion. Gabriel cries out and covers his head until it’s over.

\--

After Castiel reads the scrawled Enochian on the bedroom walls, Sam opts to give Gabriel his grace. There had never truly been any question. Sam needs Gabriel back.

To Sam’s and Castiel’s consternation, Gabriel refuses to take the grace. Castiel’s suggestion to use coercion only ends in disaster and loss of trust Sam had built with the archangel. It takes precious time and some kind of weird angelic mind-meld performed by Castiel to regain that lost ground.

If Sam had known what it would cost…

He sits hunched over one of the war-room tables, his head cradled in his hands.

Dean had thrown a fit when they told him what they’d done. Even the fact that Gabriel is still here, still in the bunker, incommunicado, granted, but _here,_ couldn’t mollify Dean, because so far, the archangel has flatly refused to help.

Asmodeus is dead. That’s something. But everything else has just gone to shit—as always.

Gabriel is cold. There’s none of the snark and humor that was integral to the archangel’s character. There’s no warmth in those Champaign eyes. Recognition, yeah, that’s back, but the … love. Sam has to be honest about that. The _love_ is absent.

_Why? Why, Gabriel? What did I do? What didn’t I do? What pushed you away?_

For all the writing on the walls, that explanation still hangs silent and heavy between them.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _A/N This chapter alludes to another head canon of mine, that being that Castiel is actually the archangel Cassiel. I know I am not the only fan or ficcer to think this. It is often hinted at in canon (Balthazar, Gabriel and Lucifer all call Castiel ‘Cassie’ for instance). I think maybe I wrote something once that used that head-canon, but at this moment, I don’t recall which story it was. Maybe “On the Brink.” Anyway, it has only got the briefest mention in this chapter, which is not to say it might not come up again. Who knows? I don’t plot my stories ahead of time._  
>   
> 
> Also, this chapter alludes to canon with the mention that Sam and Dean were never born in "Michael World." I don't recall which episode number, but Bobby and Mary discussed this early in Season 13.
> 
> \---

Sam jerks awake with a start, and sits up from where he has slumped onto the war room table. He has a moment of disorientation before he gets his bearings. He looks up, glances around the room and finds Castiel standing by his left shoulder.

“Cas…” Sam rubs his face with both hands. “I must’ve drifted off. What time is it?”

“It’s a little after three,” the angel replies.

“Three in the morning?” Sam pushes to his feet, stretches muscles gone stiff from his awkward sleeping position. “I should…” but he doesn’t know exactly what he should be doing. What _is_ there to do? With Gabriel refusing to give them any of his grace, there’s no way of reopening the rift into ‘Michael World,’ as Dean has taken to calling it. Sam sighs, slumps back into his chair.

“I made coffee,” Castiel says.

Sam nods. He remains seated. “Good, yeah. That’s good.”

“Sam… none of what’s happened is your fault.”

“Right.” A faint twisted smile quirks Sam’s lips. “You know how many times someone has said those words to me in my life, Cas?”

“No, I…”

“Too many. I used to believe it, you know? I guess, ‘none of this is on you,’ is the Winchester equivalent of Santa Claus and the tooth fairy.”

“Sam…”

Sam shakes his head, holds up a hand to stop Castiel’s words. “Fact is, a lot of it _is_ on me. Okay, I may not be to blame for being sold to Azazel before I was even conceived, and I might not be to blame for the fact that my father was a revenge obsessed asshole, but plenty of other stuff, opening the hell-gate, starting the apocalypse? That’s all on my shoulders, Cas. If Mom had let Dad go…if I’d never been born—”

“But… Mary’s decision saved the world from…”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” Sam looks up, meeting pained blue eyes. “Mom selling my unborn soul saved the world from one crock of shit, just so I could plunge it into a whole different one!”

Castiel huffs a breath. “Your thinking is very narrow,” he says.

“What’s that supposed mean?”

“Sam, because Mary decided to make a deal with Azazel, Which never happened on the other side of the rift, you and Dean exist here. Over there, you and your brother were never born, never stopped Azazel, Lilith, Abaddon, Lucifer… because of that, millions— _billions_ of people are dead. Angels, too. When I was on the other side of the rift, apart from Michael and Lucifer, I couldn’t sense a single angel whom I know. Even Michael is alien.”

 “Great.” Sam closes his eyes.

“This world may not be what you want, Sam, but it is many times better than the one Michael wants to bring here.”

It's cold comfort. “Dean and I have screwed up way more than we’ve fixed.”

“You and Dean are heroes.” Castiel pauses, his expression goes distant. “When the choirs of heaven sung the history before any of it was written, your name and Dean’s were amongst the great witnesses.”

The awe in Castiel’s voice irks Sam and he stands up. “That coffee sounds good.”  
  
“Cassiel!” Gabriel says as he makes his way into the war room. “Such things are never spoken of.”

“Cas _tiel_ ,” Cas replies stonily. “You know I denounced that name, brother.”

Gabriel scoffs. “Yeah, that’s _just_ like you. Insisting that everyone _except_ you embraces his destiny.”

Sam’s not in the mood to listen to angelic bickering. “As touching as this family reunion is? I think I’m just gonna go get that coffee.” He heads for the kitchen.

“Don’t leave on _my_ account,” Gabriel replies. “I was just coming to say _adios_.”

“What?” Castiel glares at Gabriel. “You know we need your help!”

“And _you_ know I’m sitting this one out. Besides, if the look Dean gave me just now when we met in the hallway is any indication, I’ve well outstayed my welcome.”

“You know what?” Sam rounds on the archangel. “Maybe you _should_ leave. You’re not gonna help us, so frankly I can’t see any reason why…”

Gabriel holds his hands out to the sides, palms up and turns to Castiel. “See? Even Sammich agrees.” He vanishes in a rush of wings.

Castiel stares at the spot Gabriel was standing for a second then he turns to Sam. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it, several times. His brows draw together in a deep scowl and he shakes his head. “You…” he splutters. “You unmitigated _idiot_ _!”_

An instant later, Castiel vanishes, leaving a gust of wind behind him which nearly knocks Sam off his feet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the Castiel is Cassiel theme persists in this chapter. I'm gonna roll with it.
> 
> * * *

“Was that Cas?” Dean scuffs into the library from the garage and Sam bites down hard on the urge to tell his brother to pick up his feet.

“He just left. Gone looking for Gabriel.”

Dean stares at Sam in silence for a second, then. “What do you mean, he's looking for Gabriel?”

“I mean exactly that. Apparently, Gabriel didn’t like the way you looked at him or something.”

“The way _I_ looked at him? You don’t think maybe it had something to do with the way you’ve been sour-pussin’ him?”

“I told him to leave.” Sam shakes his head at Dean’s scowl and heads for his bedroom with Dean hot on his heels.

“You _told_ him to leave?”

“You need a hearing aid? You heard what I said. He wasn’t going to help us anyway because he doesn’t like your attitude, so why hang around?”

Dean grabs Sam’s shoulder, swinging him around mid-stride. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m kicking your ass! You can’t get past your own stupid hang ups enough to admit you’ve got the hots for him, so you think it’s okay to just shove him out the damn door?”

“It didn’t take much of a shove from where I’m standing. I wasn’t in the mood for anymore of his crap. Come to think of it, I’m not in the mood for _your_ crap either.” Sam shrugs Dean off.

“Look just…figure out whatever little lover’s spat you and Gabriel have going on! Settle it, or set it aside. We haven’t got _time!_ Too much is riding on getting that rift open again!”

“Lover’s spat? Gabriel and I aren’t _lovers_ , Dean.”

“Right. You forgotten all those declarations after his vessel died?”

“Oh yeah, that obviously meant so much to him that he took off without a word a week later!” Sam pulls in a long, unsteady breath and turns his head away.

“Okay…” Dean’s tone softens as he backs down a little. “We’ve both been under a lot of pressure, and I know I let off steam in the wrong direction when I came back…”

“Let off steam. S’that what you call it?”

“Whatever. I’m sorry. But Sammy, we can’t afford to let personal crap get in the way here. You gotta get him back. Mom, Jack, Charlie…even Ketch They _need_ us to pull together right now.”

“Me?” Sam frowns. “ _I_ need to get him back? And just how do you suggest I do that?”

Dean lets out a breath. “I don’t know! Sweet talk him, pray. Fucking call him you’ve _got_ his number, haven’t you?” After a long pause, Dean switches tack, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Whether you wanna admit it or not, you and Gabriel have this thing going on…use it.”

“I don’t fucking believe you!” Sam shakes his head in disgust. “You know what? Fine. I guess it doesn’t matter, right? As long as you get your new fuck buddy back? Oh…and Mom, I guess.”

“Fuck buddy? What the fuck are you on? Ketch saved my life in there. I was done, Sam. Dead! So don’t give me your fucking jealous wife routine when you don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about!”

Sam hesitates for a second. This is the first he’s heard of Dean almost dying on the other side of the rift. He shakes it off a moment later. “No. okay, whatever. I guess I’d better put in an angelic booty call so you can get what the hell you want! Ketch is your hero? Bravo! Right up until the next time he tries to put a bullet in your gourd.”

“Shut up!” Dean shoves Sam, sending his large frame against the wall. “Ketch helped to save Charlie, too. We owe him.”

“Charlie? She’s not _our_ Charlie, Dean. We couldn’t save her.”

“Yeah, well we got a shot at saving this one. So sack up and get that damned archangel back.” Dean stomps down the hallway towards the library.

Sam slumps against the wall, letting his head fall back against the cold stone. “Fine… what’s a little whoring between friends, right? As long as it gets Dean what Dean wants.”

 

 

***V***

Gabriel wakes with a start. He can’t decide whether he’s more surprised that he was actually sleeping, or that said sleeping involved dreams. Well, nightmares, to be exact. He sits up, muttering to himself about low reserves of grace, and no access to heaven in order to recharge. “Y’might have warned a guy that you were closing the bank, Pops.” Gabriel raises his eyes heavenwards as he speaks and then shakes his head. “What’s the use of phoning home? They never pick up.”

The dreams—flashbacks—whatever are getting worse. If he just had a _little_ more grace, he’d be able to seal them off. But, thanks to Sam and his need for an intervention, even if killing Asmodeus felt _really good_... Gabriel scowls down at his growling stomach. “Et tu?” He stumbles to his feet. “Coffee. Candy. Not necessarily in that order.”

He decides that walking in search of sugar and caffeine will conserve what little grace he has left.

His footsteps echo off the brick walls around him. _What city is this again?_ Gabriel shrugs. Not that it matters as long as he can find…

“Gabriel.” The gravelly voice stops him in his tracks. Gabriel sighs.

“Really, Cassie? I thought we were done.”

“We’re not!” Castiel moves to stand in front of Gabriel, his blue eyes alight with outrage. “How can you turn your back on your friends, your family? Sam did everythi—”

“Sam? Sam did what? Gave me half a tablespoon full of grace and expected me to fall over myself helping him and his brother _save the world…”_ Gabriel encloses the phrase in air quotes. “Why should I? It’s not my argument.”

“How can you _say_ that?” Castiel tips his head to one side. “It’s… _everyone’s_ argument. Michael and Lucifer want to destroy our father’s creation!”

“Well then, that makes it _Dad’s_ argument, actually.”

Castiel huffs a breath. “Gabriel…”

“ _Gabriel…”_ the archangel mocks. “Besides, while we’re on the subject of turning your back on family…you may’ve come late to this particular party, **Cassiel** , but you’re _here_! So don’t try laying that guilt trip on me. You wanna help so bad, go get your rank and title back! I’m gonna bounce. I’ve got other, more pressing concerns.” Gabriel decides it’s time to use a little of his scant reserves and clicks out to a place even Castiel won’t find him, at least for a while.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Sam sits on his bed, his back against the headrest, long legs stretched out. In one hand he nurses a warm, untouched bottle of beer. His phone is in the other. He stares at Gabriel’s name on the screen until his vision blurs. He’s made four false starts on contacting the archangel since the previous night.

Finally, with a deep sigh, he thumbs the message icon. He can’t bring himself to call Gabriel for what he is about to say.

Biting his lip, Sam begins to type a message. _Just how do you send a booty call to one of the most powerful beings in creation?_

 

_***Hey, Gabriel, it’s Sam. I know you kinda don’t_

_want anything to do with the whole ‘save the_

_world thing’_

_I was just thinking_

_hoping that_

_maybe we could…***_

 

With an exasperated sigh, Sam tosses the phone aside, message unfinished and unsent. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, kiddo, that whole lamb to the slaughter vibe doesn’t do it for me.”

Sam startles and loses his grip on the beer which falls to the bed, spilling its contents across the coverlet, rolls to the edge, drops and thuds onto the floor still spewing beer.

“Classy,” Gabriel quips.

“Don’t you _ever_ knock?” Sam glares at the Archangel.

“Nope.” A chuckle. “Things are way more interesting when I don’t. Oh and your warding’s still broken, FYI.” He winces, presses a hand to his side and doubles over. That’s when Sam realizes the archangel is wounded.

“You’re hurt!” Sam scrambles off the bed, not caring when his bare feet land in a pool of stale beer.

“It’s a scratch…” Gabriel tries for bravado, but the groan that follows his words gives the lie.

“Sit down. Let me see.”

The fact that Gabriel complies without argument speaks volumes. Sam frowns and reaches to unbutton the archangel’s shirt. He winces at the gaping claw marks in Gabriel’s right flank. “This is a _scratch_? I’m gonna need the first-aid kit. Wait here.”

Gabriel coughs a laugh and then groans. “Yeah, not a problem.” He half reclines on the beer-stained coverlet and closes his eyes. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

 

 

**~~c c c~~ **

****

Gabriel falls back against the pillows as the door closes behind Sam. Maintaining the brave façade while the hunter was in the room has weakened him further. He draws a shaky breath and lets it out. This mortal feeling is annoying, and terrifying. Gabriel hates feeling so powerless.

He closes his eyes. He’ll rest for a minute… _Just a minute._

_The world tilts on a flash of red-green light and a wave of nausea washes over him. Thunder tears an earsplitting rent across the sky. Vicious hooks bite into his flesh, ripping the skin if  he so much as draws a breath. Gabriel whimpers. He knows this place only too well. It’s been his living nightmare for years._

_“No, no! NO!”_

_“Hello, Son.”_

_“I’m not…not your son…”_

_“No, you’re not, but you_ are _mine, Boy.”_

_A hand cups Gabriel’s chin, forcing his head up compelling him to look into the scarred, smirking face of one of the oldest demons alive. Asmodeus. Every sense screams at Gabriel to flee. He can’t move. He can’t even close his eyes or look away. He’s frozen._

_Terror grips him as he reads the lust for blood and flesh in those cold eyes. He sees beyond the vessel to the ancient dragon beneath. Gabriel sobs helplessly._

_“Please. Let me go. Kill me…whatever, just…just let the pain stop.”_

_“Pain is a beautiful thing, Boy. One of the purest sensations your father ever devised. Strange that he made you immune to it…except when you clothe yourselves in this puny human flesh.” The demon smiles, and the shadow-dragon bares its teeth in a snarl. “Pain. Fear. They taste so, so sweet.” He leans in._

_Gabriel screams._

_Somewhere far away, a voice calls his name. "Gabriel! Gabriel!"_

“Gabriel!” 

The archangel wakes, whimpering, thrashing under the hands that pin him down.

“No! No! Let me go!” He struggles for a moment, before he realizes the hands aren’t pinning him, they’re shaking him. Panting, terrified, he opens his eyes to meet hazel-green filled with worry.

“S-Sam…”

“I’m here, I got you.”


	9. Chapter 9

After Sam cleans and dresses the wound in his side, Gabriel succumbs to fitful, restless sleep.

Sam stays by him, monitoring his temperature which seems low.

Lucifer’s body temp was low too.  Sam wonders if this is a the norm for archangels or if blood loss is contributing.

After a while, Gabriel begins to shiver, teeth chattering as he’s wracked with tremors. Assuming that this is _not_ normal, Sam piles more blankets on top of the archangel and, when that doesn’t seem to help, he slips under the covers himself and wraps himself around Gabriel’s smaller frame.

“N…no…” Gabriel whimpers. “Please, don’t…please, no more…”

“Shh…” Sam strokes Gabriel’s forehead. “It’s okay. Try to rest.”

Whimpering, Gabriel rolls over to face him. He buries his face against Sam’s chest and seems to settle a little.

It’s late, and it’s been a long, fraught day. Sam lets his eyes drift closed. He’s only vaguely aware when Gabriel’s tremors cease, and soon they’re both deeply asleep.

 

~~c-c-c~~

 

Gabriel wakes hours later, wrapped in warmth and surrounded by the spicy scent of Sam Winchester’s cologne. He makes a contented, sleepy sound and snuggles closer. He feels safe for the first time in way too long. Breathing Sam in, he closes his eyes again.

“Gabriel…” Sam whispers.

“Hmm?” the archangel murmurs. He makes so bold as to nuzzle Sam’s chest at the opening of his shirt.

“Are you, feeling better.”

“Yeah.” He shifts a little, winces as the gash in his side pulls. “A little sore.”

“You’re still slow to heal.”

“Uh huh. Low grace…speaking of, I don’t suppose you’ve got any more of the silver stuff lying around? The tank’s pretty low. It will recharge, eventually… but a booster wouldn’t be unwelcome.”

It's too dark in the windowless room to see, but Gabriel feels Sam shake his head.

“Sorry, we gave you all that we had left after opening the rift.”

“I figured.” Gabriel sighs. He lets his eyes close again. He’s so tired.

They’re silent a while.

“Gabriel?” Sam’s voice is soft, hesitant. “What happened to you?”

“I got in a fight.”

“Not that,” Sam says. “After… after you came back from the dead.”

“Oh.” He knew this would come up sooner or later.  Still. Where to start? “Remember when I told you I was in witness protection?”

“Yeah. I thought that was just one of your cute oneliners.”

“You think my oneliners are cute?” Gabriel chuckles. “Awesome.” A sigh. “Anyway, it was actually _sort_ of true.”

“Sort of…true?”

“Okay, so it was completely true. Most of it.” Gabriel shifts a little, winces and suppresses a groan of pain.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Look, Sam. I might not always have been completely up front with you about… a lot of things.”

“No kidding?”

“But I want to be. Now.” Gabriel half rolls over and reaches to switch on the lamp by the bed. He turns to Sam. “I’m not Loki.”

A frown. “Okay…”

Gabriel launches into his story about how he switched places with the real trickster and how that worked for both of them. “Right up until it didn’t anymore.”

“So…” Sam shifts around in the bed until he’s sitting up, leaning against the headboard. “You became Loki, convinced everyone that you were the trickster, including Dean and me and… wait, what about Däshä? That whole death scene and… was… is… is _everything we ever had a lie?”_

Gabriel drops his gaze. “Not all of it.”

Sam scoffs. “Right. So just how am I supposed to believe _anything_ you tell me? All that stuff about…” Sam shakes his head, gets off the bed. “I…” he pushes large hands through his already tousled hair. He’s quiet for a long moment before he turns to Gabriel, his eyes filled with hurt and confusion. “Now you turn up here, wounded and asking about your grace. It’s real convenient, Gabriel. You come to us _every_ time you need help, but whenever we ask you to help _us_? You come back with some BS about not being a joiner, or not wanting to get involved. I don’t believe you! All you are is a… liar and…and a _user!”_

Gabriel flinches. “Harsh!”

“Is it?”

The air buzzes with tension. For a moment, Gabriel stares Sam down and then, suddenly, Gabriel breaks and bows his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure.”

“I really am.”

Sam says nothing.

“Look, Sam… I deserve your anger, I probably deserve for you to hate me right now, but…I have a proposal. I’ll help you and Dean.”

Sam narrows his eyes, still silent.

“But I have a personal score to settle first. Loki and his sons sold me to Asmodeus. As soon as I clear that particular slate… I’ll come back.”

“No.” Sam’s face hardens as he clenches his jaw. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Dean and I will help you with your little vendetta and _then_ you’d better believe your gonna help us!”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Cas came up with a way for me to divorce _my_ As **mo** deus from the canon Kentucky Fried Douchebag aka Asmo **deus** and I gratefully grabbed it with both hands.

* * *

 

 

It takes time for Gabriel to heal enough to go after Narfi, Sleipnir and Loki. He spends most of that time holed up in Sam’s bedroom. It’s easier to avoid Dean’s grudging tolerance of his presence; and Castiel… well, it’s better to avoid him, too, except…

There’s a soft knock on the door on the fourth morning of Gabriel’s convalescence. He doesn’t need to ask who it is. His grace may be low, but he still has enough juice—not to mention instinct— to recognize his brother’s presence outside the door. He considers playing possum, but given that even with damaged wings, Castiel has more grace…

Gabriel sighs. “Come in.”

Castiel does. He stands near the foot of the bed. He puts his hands behind his back, then he shuffles his feet and folds his arms across his chest. Then he drops his hands to his sides and turns in a slow circle coming to face Gabriel again with a deep frown.

“I usually prefer female dancers,” Gabriel says, “and your routine needs improvement.”

“I wasn’t da…” Castiel scowls, realizing Gabriel is teasing. He huffs a breath. “Besides, you’re in no condition to impart lessons on anything.”

Gabriel chuckles, presses a hand to the wound in his side. “Here’s a tip. Don’t get scratched by a demi-god. Hurts like a bitch!”

Castiel nods in response. He glances around the room.

“Why don’t you sit down? Tell me what’s on your mind, Chick.”

“I’m hardly a _chick_. I’m Four hundred and for…”

“Yeah, you’ve been around a while, but you’re still a chick to me. I watched you fledge and taught you to fly, Bro, so…”

“The difference is only one and a half millennia.”

“I’m sure you didn’t come in here to debate our birthdays.”

“No. I didn’t.”

Gabriel sits up in bed and gestures with both hands, palms up. “Spill.”

“First, thank you for returning, and for offering to help.”

“Okay. That’s the pleasantries done. What’s the real issue?”

“Asmodeus.”

Gabriel gets a sensation that he figures must be what humans mean when they say ‘my blood ran cold.’ He shivers a little. “I don’t want to talk ab—”

“We need to.” Castiel meets and holds Gabriel’s gaze. “It’s important to me that you know he wasn’t…”

“Cassie…” There’s warning in his tone, and Gabriel shifts a little, wincing, wishing he had the mojo to teleport away.

“You can’t avoid this forever. I _need_ to tell you that was not As _mo_ deus At least, not the being I knew by that name.”

Gabriel frowns. He studies his brother for a long moment. Something about the set of Castiel’s shoulders, the earnest light in his eyes gives the archangel pause. Even the way Castiel says the demon’s name, a different point of emphasis. ‘As _mo_ deus.’

“Okay…”

“I know that you suffered terrible things at the hands of Asmo _deus.”_

Oh, you mean, the torture, the imprisonment, the binding of my wings, the sapping of my grace? The _rapes!_ The _years_ of…of… He used me, he debased me until I was…” Gabriel looks away. He doesn’t need to tell Castiel what he’d become. He can see the anguish of that memory in his brother’s eyes.

“I know.” Castiel’s voice is a low, pained whisper. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. Truly sorry. If I could—”

“What? Take it away? Kiss it better? Put me out of my _misery_?” Something hot and wet splashes onto Gabriel’s cheek. He’s startled, lifts a finger to touch the wetness. “Tears… I-I’m…”

“Crying,” Castiel says. “It’s a curious sensation. I recall the first time it happened to me. When I was…” He breaks off. “Brother, we have both suffered at the hands of brethren who chose the lesser path.” Castiel spreads his mangled wings in support of his point.

Gabriel glances at the broken feathers and quickly averts his gaze. It’s abomination. He can’t look, but he will  never un-see it.

“But it is important to lay blame where it belongs. As _mo_ deus…my As _mo_ …”

Gabriel scrambles to his feet, ignoring the pain from his wound. “ _Your_ Asmodeus!” He takes a faltering step towards Castiel. “What the _fuck_ does that mean?”

Castiel comes to his feet, his mangled wings warbled** at the perceived threat in Gabriel’s advance. “ _Listen_ , brother! I’ll explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The word _warbled_ in this chapter doesn't refer to the sound a male canary makes, but rather to the position of the wings, ie: [held high above the head.](https://www.pinterest.ie/pin/350084571003541057/)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave my readers hanging, waiting for Cas to explain himself, I had an exam to study for (boring, but I passed!) So here is the next installment. I just want to hug Castiel, so I had Gabriel do it for me.
> 
> * * *

There is a long, tense moment while Gabriel stares Castiel down. He still seems half inclined to attack.

“Please,” Castiel says.

Gabriel shakes his head, lets out a breath. He unconsciously presses a hand to his side as he sinks down on the side of the bed. “All right, but don’t think I’m not kicking your ass the minute I’m strong enough, just for…I don’t know, just for _kicks.”_

“Of course.” Castiel folds his wings. He remains standing. “I could…” he lifts a hand, gestures at the place Gabriel is holding.

“No.” Suddenly aware of the display of weakness, Gabriel drops his hand to the mattress, sits a little straighter. “You don’t have the juice anyway, and besides…I’m enjoying the attention from Sam.”

Castiel says nothing.

“So… you think Asmodeus is…wasn’t Asmodeus?”

“I don’t think that. I _know_ it.”

Gabriel lifts an eyebrow. “From where I was chained, he sure looked like the real deal. Right down to the scars across his face. Odd that he let them show through on the vessel. He was always such a vain douchebag.”

“He had…his pride.” Castiel shuffles his feet. “Vanity? I never thought if it as that.”

“Look, enough with the awkward posturing, okay? Siddown for dad’s sakes I’m getting a crick in my neck!”

Castiel glances around the room and his gaze lands on the bed.

“Oh, c’mon, Cassie. We’ve shared a bed a hundred thousand times and I have never _once_ made a pass at you!” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “We’re _brothers!_ ”

Aggrieved, Castiel meets his brother’s eyes. “It’s not that. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine. Now plant your butt and spill the beans.”

Castiel breathes a longsuffering sigh and settles gingerly on the bed beside Gabriel. “It’s hard to know where to begin.”

“At the beginning is usually a good place.”

“That would make this an awfully long story and you already know the beginning, you were there.”

“Okay, so tell me about As _mo_ deus…how is he different to the guy who chained me in hell and flayed me alive…let’s see…uh…at least four hundred times—not that I was counting.”

“He wouldn’t have done that, he knew what you are to me. That’s why I cannot— _will not_ —believe that… _creature_ was the…the person I loved.”

“Whoa… Loved?” Gabriel studies Castiel with narrowed eyes for a long moment. “I’m questioning your taste right now, but... _You_ just used the word _loved._ I thought that after the last time you’d sworn off…”

“This was different. He was different.” Castiel looks into Gabriel’s eyes. “He was… Well, actually, I despised him from the first moment we met.  
“Ohhh! always a bad sign, Cassie. I know you don’t read, but you must’ve seen it happen, the whole hate at first sight that turns to love, trope? Been done a billion times.”

“We fought a lot in the early years. He was a crafty opponent. Kept me guessing, and made me so _angry_ and…brought out a part of me that I’m not proud of, and yet… I could never stay away. Except for the part when I lost my memory.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Okay, _Silhouette Romance_ …cut to the chase. Why did you get tangled up with a prince of hell to begin with? You _know_ how dad feels about that kind of fraternization.”

“I didn’t know that he was a prince, then. To me, he was just an extremely annoying demon. Albeit an attractive one.”

“An angel falling for a demon isn’t all that much better with pops, Cas. Why didn’t you run a mile—a hundred miles? Why didn’t you talk to _me?”_

“Pride. Arrogance. And then…” Castiel sighs. “Then it was too late, and I had fallen. Not just fallen in love, but _fallen,_ Gabriel. The souls from purgatory, the Leviathan. There is no redemption for any of that. I… don’t even understand why our father brought me back, why I was elevated from Angel to Seraph…it makes no sense. But Crowley…”

Gabriel sits bolt upright, winces, presses a hand to his side. “ _Crowley?!_ The crossroads… _That_ Crowley?”

“I’m only aware of one Crowley.” Castiel looks miserable. “There is so much, Gabriel. So many things I have done that cannot be undone. The Metatron fiasco, getting our brothers and sisters cast out of heaven. So, in many ways, it made sense that Crowley and I should become lovers. He created me in his image, and I allowed him to. When I finally saw through the glamor he used to disguise himself, it was…almost…logical. I don’t recall feeling all that surprised to discover he was Prince Asmodeus all along.”

“Wait. Are you telling me you gave yourself to him because he _tricked_  you into falling?”

“No. Yes. I…No I don’t think so. I believe that _my_ feelings for _him_ were genuine.”

“Oh. Cassie.”

Castiel bows his head, closes his eyes. “But he was not capable of doing the things you endured.”

“You know that’s not true, Cas. In your innermost being, you _know_ who and what the princes of hell were.”

“I can’t believe that he…” A tear glistens at the tip of dark lashes where they rest against Catiel’s cheek. “I…”

Gabriel him into a hug. “Maybe not when he was Crowley. I don’t know. I only know what happened to me.”

“But he died.” The words are a broken whisper against Gabriel’s neck. “On the other side of the rift, the first time it opened. Crowley _died!”_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um...this happened...and then that happened and...
> 
> The second part is all David Tennant's fault.
> 
> *grins, posts, runs.*
> 
> * * *

Sam walks along the hallway and pauses outside Gabriel’s room. He glances down at the plate of food in his hand before he gently taps on the door.

“C’m in, Sam.”

A smile touches Sam’s lips and he steps inside. “You knew it was me? Is your grace getting stronger?”

“A little, Gabriel replies, but I know your footsteps. You, unlike your brother, lift your feet when you walk.”

“Oh.”

“What’s on the menu?” Gabriel’s eyes are on the plate Sam carries, but his tone gives a whole different meaning to the words. After a moment, golden eyes lift to Sam’s flushed cheeks and Gabriel makes a show of licking his lips.

“Ah…uhm…” Sam clears his throat and moves to set the plate on the bedside. “Just sandwiches again. Sorry. We haven’t made a supply run.”

“Pretty sure I could think of something way tastier.” A grin and a waggle of his eyebrows and Gabriel pounces, grabbing Sam’s wrist, and, with more strength than should be in his slight frame, pulls Sam onto the bed. “Like…” He leans in, presses his mouth to Sam’s and flicks his tongue across Sam’s lips. “This.”

Sam groans.

Gabriel replies with a muffled “M-hmm,” against Sam’s lips. He sets to work at getting Sam out of his clothes.

“So, you must be feeling better.” Sam wriggles out of the sweater, and then his t-shirt, cooperating with Gabriel’s efforts.

“Yeah, almost completely healed…physically.” The words are punctuated with nips and kisses at Sam’s throat. “Missed you, Sam.”

“Huh! M-me too.” Sam lifts his hips, allowing Gabriel to slide his jeans down his thighs. “Are…are you…s-sure…”

“Oh yeah!”

Sam closes his eyes, arches his back on a shuddering hitch of breath as that wicked mouth…..

“Sammy!” Dean barely pauses to knock before bursting into the room. “Fuck!” He backs out just as fast. “Uh…”

“Dude!” Gabriel scrambles backwards on the bed.

Sam rolls to his feet, clutching for his jeans and stumbles into the bedside, sending the platter of PB&J clattering, splintering to the floor. “Dean!”

Dean looks anywhere but into the room. His cheeks burn crimson. “We uh… got some leads…um…Library, five minutes.”

Sam kicks the door shut and fumbles with the button on his jeans. “Oh, God…”

“Does your brother think you’re a monk or something?”

“I… Um… His jeans fastened, Sam stoops to grab his shirt and sweater. “He…”

“I’ll  take that as a yes.”

“I gotta go.” Sam bolts.

Gabriel lets out a breath, surveys the smashed plate, and sandwiches on the floor. “Damn. I was hungry, too.”

 

 

**~~sssss~~ **

**Later that night:**

If there is one thing her centuries of life, and two deaths, have taught Rowena McLeod, it is that tenacity is its own reward.

The beauty of magic is variance. If one method fails, you try another, and another after that.

That’s what separates true witches from amateur candle-burners. Rowena gives a small nod of satisfaction and sits back to survey her handiwork. The sigils are perfect, the ingredients are assembled. There’s just one more thing. She lifts the ornate dagger from her altar and turns it in her hand, admiring the emerald encrusted handle, the stones flashing green in the candlelight. The dagger belonged to Crowley, and is as much an ingredient as a tool. Rowena smiles draws a deep breath and slices her palm.

Ruby drops fall into the golden bowl. Rowena closes her eyes. It has to work this time, it just has to…

She begins the incantation. _“Et nunc absolve te ab aeterna morte…”_   Rowena takes a candle from the altar as her words gain volume and conviction. “ _In oriri mandatum MEUM!”_ On the last syllable she sets the ingredients in the bowl alight and flings her head back, arms raised above her head. She trembles, pants. A sob breaks from her parted lips.

There is a purple-violet flash, the ground shudders with an unholy impact. Rowena quivers in response. Every nerve tenses as she slowly lowers her arms and opens her eyes.

A slim man with shoulder length red hair stands a few feet away. He wears round, dark glasses. A black jacket and waistcoat over a grey shirt, a thin grey tie, blue jeans and a belt with an ornate buckle. He scowls at her.

Rowena stumbles to her feet with a cry of delight. “My own dear boy!”

The man quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh! Let me look at you!” Rowena moves towards him but is stopped by quelling glare. “Oh come now, don’t pout.” She hesitates. “Don’t you recognize me?”

He takes off the glasses, rakes her form with cold dark eyes. “Of course I recognize you. _Mother.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a Latin scholar, but the translator I used said that the Latin phrases in my chapter roughly equate to: "I release you from eternal death, rise by my command!"


	13. Chapter 13

Sam can’t decide who is more embarrassed or awkward. Dean is gruff, keeps his eyes averted and frequently scratches the hair at the base of his skull. All obvious tells of his embarrassment. Sam can’t look at Dean, shuffles his feet, repeatedly clears his throat. His own tells. Castiel watches them tensely. Hands curled into loose fists, his eyebrows drawn into his ‘I’m confused,’ frown.

The only one who isn’t embarrassed is Gabriel. He strolls casually into the library a few moments behind Sam.

“So…leads?” he looks from one to the other. “Are we finally closing in on Luci?”

Sam clears his throat. Dean glances at Cas.

Castiel nods woodenly. “Yes.”

“Aannd?” Gabriel prompts. “Where is the big bag of dicks?”

“I don’t know…exactly, but I may have a way of finding him. The witch, Rowena…”

“The tiny-angry-red-head?” Gabriel’s lips quirk in a smile. “She’s hot.”

Sam shoots the archangel a sharp glance, earning a shrug in response.

“I’ve got eyes, Sam,” Gabriel says. “And _she’s_  got the most…”

 “Yeah, well," Dean cuts in before Gabriel can finish the sentence. "We don’t know exactly where _she_ is, either. She says she’s coming here but…”

“Of course, you don’t believe me…hello, boys, Tweetie Pie…oh, and Big Bird is here as well.”

All  four swing around to face the stairs in surprise.

“How the hell did you get in here!” Dean starts forward, indignant.

Rowena scoffs. “There’s a wee matter of the broken warding, dearie. But don’t worry, I didn’t bring anyone…well, not anyone you wouldn’t want to see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growls.

Rowena descends a few steps and the man standing behind her comes into view. “You said,” she eyes Castiel. “That we needed to gather our most powerful allies. So I brought….”

Castiel’s eyes go round and wide. He stares at the thin, red-haired man in shocked silence for a moment, and then whispers. “Crowley.”

“In the…whatever this is,” The demon replies with a gesture at his vessel. “Hello, Kitten.” His gaze sweeps over Sam and Dean. “Boys.” To Gabriel. “Prisoner 24601*.”

“Crowley?” Sam and Dean speak in unison and exchange a swift, disbelieving glance.

“How’s that possible?” Sam scowls. “We saw you die on the other side of the rift and we _left_ your body there.”

“Yes.Thanks for the memorial. Very touching.” Crowley’s tone is cold. “You taking the time to bury my old suit meant I had to occupy _this_ bag of bones when Mommy dearest pulled me back from the dead." A glance for Rowena, “An action for which I fully intend to garrote her, later.”

“Oh, you do say the sweetest things, Fergus.” Rowena descends the rest of the way into the library. “It’s so _noble_ to die for a cause, lad. Easy, in fact.” She turns to face him. “The real courage though, is found in staying alive to fight your battles to the bitter end!” Somehow, her glance manages to take in both Crowley and Gabriel on the last sentence. “Now, I’ll be needing a few little findings if I’m to locate Lucifer for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * With apologies to Victor Hugo.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ties in somewhat with my Crowstiel story: _[Dive in when I'm down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7417699)_ If you haven't read that, you might not understand exactly what it going on here, but I think the chapter can and does work without reading Dive in.

“You’re different.”

Crowley huffs a breath. “And your talent for stating the glaringly obvious hasn’t changed at all, Castiel.” He makes a gesture at the vessel he wears.

“No, it’s not just the vessel. _You_ are changed.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose death with do that to one. A death, mind you, which I intended to be quite permanent.”

“Why?”

“Why am I different?”

“No. Why did you want to… why would you choose to…”

“Off myself?” Crowley smirks. “You heard mother. It seemed…noble.”

“That’s a lie. I know you, Crowley. I can tell when you’re avoiding the issue.”

“Can we discuss this some other time? There’s work to be done, apparently.”

“We have time.” Castiel folds his arms across his chest, plants his feet and levels a steady gaze at the demon.

Crowley growls, paces the room looking around. “Haven’t those two lunkheads got any of that rotgut they call whiskey in this place?”

“There hasn’t been much time for buying supplies since you… left us.”

_Left us…_ The words echo in Crowley’s head. _Left **us** , _not _“left me.”_

“I told you once, Castiel, that I was tired of fighting for everything and everyone, the constant _battle_ the hard scrabble of keeping my position. I was so busy holding onto my job that I couldn’t see how much I detested it.”

Castiel watches him in silence.

“So,  I decided to stop.”

Still those blue eyes bore into him, through him. “For Lucifer’s sake!” The demon turns away. “What do you want me to say? I gave up, Castiel.”

“You didn’t need to fight for me,” the angel murmurs. “You had me.”

“Not really.” Crowley turns to face him. “Not for a long time, Kitten. You distanced yourself from me after…”

Castiel bows his head, long dark lashes falling to obscure his blue eyes. “Lucifer.” A sigh. “I never…”

“Forgave yourself, I know.”

Castiel nods.

“Perhaps…”

Blue eyes raise to meet Crowley’s gaze.

“Perhaps, I was wrong, to tell you I wouldn’t forgive you.”

“I needed to hear that from you, even if you thought it was not ‘on me,’” Castiel gives air quotes to the phrase.

“I do.” Crowley takes a step closer to the angel. “I forgive you, Castiel.”

Something seems to release. The angel’s shoulders ease he closes his eyes. Whispers “Thank you.”

Crowley nods. He takes another step, bringing himself into the seraph’s personal space. He reaches out to press his palm against Castiel’s chest. “I…was angry at Rowena, for bringing me back,” he says.

“I’m not.”

“I know. Me neither, now.”

Castiel closes the last bit of space between them, pulls the new, smaller vessel into his arms and brushes his lips against the demon’s mouth. “Welcome home.”


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel, Sam and Dean sit at a table in the library, ostensibly playing Texas Holdem, but no one is really concentrating on the cards. Rowena worked her location spell to find Lucifer four hours ago and Gabriel had insisted on going to capture his brother alone.

“So how long do you think it’s gonna take?” Dean tosses a couple of chips into the pot, shooting a sidelong glance at Castiel.

The seraph shrugs. “Knowing Gabriel…” A sigh and a speaking glance at Sam. “and the state of mind he’s been in of late..”

“Which, has nothing to do with _me._ ” Sam turns up his hole cards.

“He cares for you, Sam.”

“Yeah, and that’s why he was… he and Rowena were…” Sam clears his throat. “Sure, he _cares_ for me.”

Dean shakes his head and turns over the two cards in front of him. “You get to do the laundry _again_ , Sammy. You’re off your game.”

“Not if Cas has a better hand…”

The seraph shakes his head. “I fold.”

Sam mutters a curse. He gathers the cards to shuffle. “Crowley, want me to deal you in?”

“Hm?” The demon glances up from a book of lore he is leafing through. “No. I much prefer Gin Rummy. Far more civilized game. Besides, none of you could wager anything I have the slightest interest in winning.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You know, you could actually make yourself useful instead of taking up space.”

Crowley scowls at him and waves the book in his hand. “Well, you need archangel grace to open the portal, and Gabriel’s not forthcoming. In case he _doesn’t_ return with Lucifer, I’m looking for an alternative.”

“Someone mention my name?” As though on cue, the archangel appears. “How’s this for an alternative, demon?” He drops Lucifer at Crowley’s feet.  “You’re welcome.”

Crowley sidesteps as though to avoid treading in dog feces. His eyes flick from Gabriel to Lucifer and back. “All of a sudden there are too many angels in this room for my liking.” He edges a little further away and vanishes with a snap of his fingers.

Castiel scrambles to his feet, his expression wary as he takes in Lucifer and Gabriel. Lucifer is not visibly bound, but he remains where Gabriel dumped him, unmoving, seemingly disinterested in his surroundings.

“Lucifer?” Sam rises uneasily.

“He can’t talk,” Gabriel says.

Lucifer looks up and meets Sam’s gaze with dull eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I gagged him, but…” Gabriel nudges Lucifer with the toe of his boot. “Aside from that, he wasn’t much of a challenge. Off his game.”

“You know somethin’, Crowley had a point,” Dean says and Gabriel smirks at him.

“Oh, no need to worry. I’m not staying. I delivered your main ingredient. Obligations met.” Champagne eyes turn to Sam. “Not like _anyone_ wants me here, after all.”

Sam lowers his gaze. “I uh…have some laundry I need to get to.”

“Right. And _I_ have three strippers…one male… waiting for me so…” A snicker from Lucifer has hot color flooding Sam’s cheeks.

“Well, thanks for stopping by,” Dean puts in.

“You know what? I think Luci deserves to have his tongue back.” Gabriel touches his brother’s forehead. “Sorry, Bro. Enjoy.” With one last look at Sam the archangel vanishes in a flurry of wings. Lucifer’s snickering turns to outright laughter. Sam feels the bitter edge of that mockery like shards of glass across his soul. He turns away, headed … anywhere but this room.

“Oh Sammy! Don’t wind up the party on _my_  account,” Lucifer calls through fits of laughter. “I just got here!”

Sam ignores him, walking towards the hallway.

“If you wanted to see me, all you hadda do was call,” Lucifer adds. “I _gave_ you my number.”

Sam turns. “Why don’t we cut his throat and take his grace now? It’ll spare us having to listen to him.”

“Aw, I love you, too, _Sammich_.” Lucifer droops, bows his head. “Go ahead, get it over with.”

Sam, Castiel and Dean all turn to look  at him in puzzled silence.

“Hasn’t anyone thought to put the kettle on?” Rowena says as she comes into the Library. “A lass could die of thirst waiting for a wee cup of…" She stops in her tracks, eyes widening as she takes in Lucifer's defeated look. "What is  _wrong with him?”_

“We don’t know,” Castiel replies. He regards his brother with a frown.

“Rowena,” Lucifer raises his head. “You’re looking…reconstructed.”

The witch glares at him. “And you…” Scoffs. “The Light Bearer, they call you? Seems your lamp is firmly under a bushel right now.”

“So what’re we wasting time for?” Dean gets to his feet. “Let’s do this.”

Rowena smiles at Lucifer. “Oh, I am sooo going. To. Enjoy. This.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Um... I was intending to be a little closer to canon with this, but then...  
> I mean it's _kinda_ following canon(ish)?

_That was a douche move, dude._ Gabriel sighs and shakes his head. It’s not the first time he has condemned himself. It’s annoying, he never used to have a conscience. He figures it must be something to do with low grace…the almost but not quite mortal state he’s been in since Asmodeus was consuming his grace, piece by fragment by delectable morsel.

He glances around at his surroundings. No strippers, neither male, nor female. There never were. That’s just what he said to hurt Sam. Another sigh. _Since when did hurting Sam become a thing?_

He doesn’t know the answer to that…or maybe he does, but he can’t admit it. An angel — _archangel_ has his pride, yaknow! _Pride_. Gabriel scoffs. That’s about all he has. Even _that_ is scarce these days.

He pushes a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside of him. “Feelings!” he mutters.

Before the loss of his grace, Gabriel had an affinity, a fondness even, for humans and he’d understood carnal desire, physical pleasure. Those, he had borrowed from his vessel, along with Näshä’s penchant for sweets.

The feelings he experiences now are different. Alien. Uncomfortable. He recalls how he has mocked Castiel over the centuries for his awe of humanity, his attachment, and in more recent times, his love.

Now the reckoning… Gabriel _loves_ and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He is jealous, and he doesn’t know what to do with _that,_ either.

He only knows that the ways he has tried to salve his feelings for Sam have not made him feel any better.

“Dammit!” Gabriel gets to his feet, paces the room. He doesn’t even know, or care where he is, only that it’s not with Sam. Not where he wants to be.

“And you let Lucifer’s tongue loose on him! You _know_ their history, idiot!”

Gabriel puts his hands to his head. “Sam…Sam, I’m…”

An instant later without even thinking of what he’s doing, Gabriel lands in the Men of Letters’ Library.

“Sorry. Forgive me.”

The bunker is cold, dark, deserted…

Gabriel turns in a slow circle.

At one end of the library, a small, flickering spark of light. It pulses, frizzles. Gabriel senses the power coming off it. He stares, confused for a moment. “What…”

“Koth, Munto Nuntox,” The faint, tired whisper of a woman’s voice.

Gabriel sees her then, slumped over the book of the damned at a small altar to one side of the sparking tear in space and time…

“That’s …that’s the rift?” He goes to the witch’s side. “What happened? Where’s Lucifer?”

“Koth…munto…nuntox,” Rowena chants. Her green eyes flick towards the faltering ribbon of light.

Gabriel glances over his shoulder. “Crap!”

He snatches the jeweled dagger from the altar and draws the sharp point along the artery in his wrist. A curlicue of faintly glowing grace drips into Rowena’s bowl. “It’s not much I know… but it might hold it open long enough to…”

Rowena nods, sobs for breath. “Go! For heaven’s sakes hurry. My...s-son is…”

“Gotcha.” Gabriel wastes no more time. He lunges at the flickering rift and falls, spinning into a void.


	17. Chapter 17

For a long, sickeningly breathless moment, Gabriel fears he has fallen into the empty. _That's it then. The end, finito, Done._ But then his fall ends with a jarring thud that knocks all  the air out of his lungs and leaves him gasping, open mouthed and helpless for what feels like an hour. When he finally pulls in a breath, he lies panting for another full minute. He coughs, groans, sits up. "Well, that was annoying."

Something's wrong with the sun. Everything around him is washed out sepia. The spectrum is diminished. Gabriel frowns.

"That's not all that's wrong." He slowly gets to his feet.

He flexes his wings uneasily. Sam and Dean had told him this place was off, but... Gabriel shakes his head. He can sense Michael's power, and that of way more angels than exist on the plane he has just come from. Heaven is a dull background static. Present, but muffled. Still, that holds potential.

Gabriel turns in a slow circle, trying to hone in on Castiel, or Lucifer. He'd settle for Crowley.

 

\--

 

When he was younger, Sam used to have nightmares about the blackened corpse of his mother pinned to the nursery ceiling.

The fact that he had seen neither Mary, nor anyone else’s incinerated body didn’t stop his subconscious conjuring visions horrific enough to send him screaming from his sleep, from his bed, into the comforting warmth of his brother’s arms.

Later, Jessica replaced Mary and his subconscious had more than imagination to work with. Sam had _seen_ Jess burning,  writhing on the ceiling above him. He had felt her warm blood drip onto his face.

As much as Sam hated those dreams, they were a barometer of sorts. They told him he was human. That he had a soul, that he could feel. He misses them. These days, he hardly thinks of Jessica and the nightmares don’t come. If he dreams at all, his nocturnal terrors are different now. He sees the faces of everyone he couldn’t save. Hears their voices. That, or he dreams of losing Dean, sees him torn apart by hell hounds, crushed under cement blocks, mowed down by cars, drained of his essence by Djinn. Mostly though, Sam doesn’t dream. That’s why he’s surprised to waken drenched in cold sweat from a fitful sleep in this nether that Dean calls “Michael World,” his heart hammering frantically against his ribcage. The mental echo of Gabriel’s voice screaming Sam’s name, making his synapses jump with panic.

He sits up, panting, and pushes a hand through his hair. In the semi-gloom that passes for daylight in this world, Dean turns to face him.

“Sammy?” His voice is a sleepy, resentful burr.

“S’okay,” Sam says. “I’m…” He was going to say okay, but he can’t make the lie pass his lips. He shrugs and gets off the bed. “I need the bathroom.”

A grunt from Dean as he rolls over. “I need another hour.”

Sam nods and stumbles out of the room.

The warm scent of fresh coffee greets him. The quiet murmur of voices adding an incongruous sense of normalcy.

Mary and Bobby sit opposite each other at a small table. Each holding a cup of coffee as they plan and argue. Castiel stands by a window gazing outside. His brow creased with the ever more customary frown. He turns his head as Sam enters.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam’s jangled nerves settle a little. He nods, gives the angel a half-smile. “Cas.”

“You sense him too.” A bald statement as the angel meets his eyes. “Gabriel.”

Sam starts to shake his head, but a flash of his waking dream stalls the action. He lets out a breath. “He’s here?”

“I can’t say for certain.” Castiel turns back towards the window. “Just…”

“Yeah.” Sam pours himself a cup of coffee. He knows what Castiel means.

“It may not be him,” Cas murmurs. “Or it may not be… _our_ Gabriel.”

Sam pulls out a chair and joins Mary and Bobby. “I doubt it’s anything more than wishful thinking.”


	18. Chapter 18

When Gabriel thought that he’d settle for Crowley, what he really meant was that he would settle for anyone other than who he actually found…or who actually found _him_ , to be more exact.

“Gabriel!” Lucifer lounges against a crumbling chimney stack at the side of the burned out hull of a house. “Fancy meeting you here, _Bro.”_

_Crap!_ Gabriel barely contains the flinch of alarm as he turns to face his brother. Lucifer looks strong, unscathed and, judging by the power Gabriel can feel radiating off of him, he’s far from lacking in grace.

“Lucifer!” Gabriel forces a smile to his trembling lips. He backs off a pace or two as the archangel advances on him. “Things got a little uh…stabby back there, I admit. I mean, sure, I sold you out, but... now that we’re _here_ perhaps we should have a rethink? I mean we’re facing a common foe in this dimension, right?”

Lucifer scoffs, shakes his head. He takes a couple more steps.

“Look, I know you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye in the past. Sibling rivalry, huh? Killer…” _Okay, dumbass, not the best choice of words._ “But I have always admired you. In fact you were my fav…”

“Stop!” Lucifer holds up a hand. “Don’t _lie_ to the father of lies, Gabriel. It’s lame.” He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m so over your trickery and fast-talk. Even if I did teach you everything you know.”

“Don’t kid yourself.” Gabriel shifts from placation to indignation in a flash. “I learned all my tricks from the best in the business. Despite what your over inflated ego says, that was Loki, not _you!”_

Lucifer shrugs. “Okay, but don’t try and con me with that whole ‘you’re my favorite’ schtick. Cassandra was always your pet.”

“His name is Cass…Castiel.” Gabriel says. “It’s true, he was my protégé, but I always looked up to you. You were the Light Bearer…”

“ _Am_ the Light Bearer.”

“…One of the few angels actually permitted to be in Dad’s presence most of the time.”

“Oh, yeah and wasn’t that a barrel of laughs. ‘Bow down before my throne, sing my praises…’ At least Dad learned a little humility by living on this ball of crud he calls his crowning creation.”

“I was lucky if I got called to the office once in a millennia.”

“Anyway, shut up, you’re distracting me. I should be thanking you.”

“What?”

“No, really, I’m grateful. If you hadn’t dumped me in that bunker and left me there to have my throat cut and my grace slowly dripolated out of me, I wouldn’t have found out that Jack is alive and he’s _here.”_

“You know about Jack?”

“Gotta hand it to the little redhead. When she’s nervous, she talks. So yeah, she let slip that my son is alive and well and living in Memphis… so here I am. Thanks. In light of your usefulness in helping me find that out. I’ll tear you apart gently.” Lucifer steps towards Gabriel.

“Whoa! Whoa! Wait! Let’s not be hasty.” Gabriel scrambles backwards. In his current state he is no match for a fully charged and on-task Lucifer. “Yeah, Jack’s alive, and he’s here, somewhere…but you don’t know where, and you _know_ he’s not going to let you find him unless he wants you to… I could help with that.”

Lucifer narrows his eyes, seems to consider for a moment,  and then shakes his head. “Nah.” He smirks. “You’ll only do something boring like trying to trick your way out of this, and frankly…” A shrug. “I can’t be bothered.” He beckons with a finger and Gabriel is pulled inexorably towards him.

“Okay…okay fine. Kill me if that’s what you want to do. I’m done anyway. I’m sick of this family and the constant in-fighting. I was done a long time ago.” As he speaks, Gabriel’s eyes dart about, looking for some means of escape. “Not like I’ve got anything to live for any…”

A bolt of unnatural lightning tears across the sky and the ground under their feet shudders. Both Archangel’s look heavenward as a high pitched whining picks up in the atmosphere. A rush of wind sets the scant vegetation thrashing.

Gabriel closes his eyes. _I am officially doubly screwed._

Lucifer loses focus on Gabriel and whirls in place, his eyes scanning the skies. “Michael!” he shouts above the keening of wind. An archangel blade appears in his hand.

Loosed from his brother’s influence, Gabriel falls to the ground but immediately scrambles up and takes cover behind what’s left of the ruined house.

Michael hits the ground in front of Lucifer with a shuddering impact that sends the ruined house toppling to dust and rubble, much to Gabriel’s chagrin.

“Lucifer!”

“I expected a welcoming committee,” Lucifer says. “I never _dreamed_ you’d come to greet me personally.”

“Do you really think I would let your arrival here go unattended?”

“I kinda hoped…”

Michael huffs a laugh and draws his blade.

“Aannnd that’s my cue!” Gabriel takes to his heels.


	19. Chapter 19

Gabriel runs until he thinks he’s far enough away to avoid any apocalyptic fallout from Lucifer and Michael’s battle. He stops in a clearing and bends over, resting his hands on his thighs as he struggles to catch his breath. “This mortality jag…is…getting old!” Gabriel puffs out a breath between pursed lips. “Gimme wings any day… over fleeing… on foot.” The rapid pounding of his heart subsides a little and Gabriel straightens. He rubs at the dampness on his forehead and scowls at the sweat staining his shirt. “Gross!”

With a shake of his head, he takes in his surroundings. Charred trees and shrubbery encircle the patch of stony ground. To the left of the clearing a crude wooden crucifix, fashioned from tree branches bears a rotting corpse. The smell of it only registers now. Gabriel wrinkles his nose. He studies the corpse dispassionately for a moment. “Horrible way to go, dude…ette?” It’s hard to tell the gender because of the decomposition. Gabriel turns away. “I’d say humans are barbaric, but maybe _they_ didn’t do that to you…” He walks a circle, giving the crucified body a wide berth as he finds his bearings. “Okay, so the Bro-wars are going down over here, to the south. Inconveniently, that’s also where I came in.” A sigh. “So, if I were Castiel in this world, where would I go?” He pauses, thinking. “More to the point, if I were _Sam_ in this world who would I look for? Beeteedubs, Cassie, remind me to beat you for making the kid invisible to angels…. Wait. I’ve got it. Mary!” Fortunately for Gabriel, Mary Winchester has no such warding. He turns another circle, catches a faint vibration in the ether and starts walking. “Here’s hoping she isn’t too far away. I hate walking.”

“You know, you could just let me take you to her.”

“Lucifer!” Gabriel spins to face his brother. “What…how… Why aren’t you a kebab on Michael’s grill right now?”

Lucifer shrugs noncommittally. “Lucky, I guess.” He falls in alongside Gabriel as they walk towards the East.

“Michael’s not dead. I would have sensed _that!”_

“Nope. Last time I saw him, he was default-setting-po’d, but alive.”

“Then, how did you get away?”

“You’re really still backing that horse in this race?” Lucifer looks disappointed for a moment before with another shrug he adds. “I took a leaf out of your book. I ran.”

“You? _Ran?!”_ Gabriel scoffs. “Spin me another.”

“I’m weak at the moment, low grace? I’m not stupid, little brother.”

“No. You’re fully charged. I don’t know how, but I sensed that the minute we met.” Gabriel narrows his eyes. “You made a deal…”

Lucifer says nothing. They walk on in silence for some time.

“What did you offer him?” Gabriel demands. “Heaven? Hell? A share in…”

Lucifer halts and puts a hand to Gabriel’s chest to stay him. “I hear footsteps ahead.”

“Me too.” Gabriel nods. He slides his angel blade into his hand.


	20. Chapter 20

There have been times, since his stint as Asmodeus’ plaything in hell, when Gabriel thinks he doesn’t sense the passing of time as he should. This is one of them. Lucifer says he can hear footsteps, Gabriel hears them too. Then…without his being fully aware of it, time shifts and Gabriel finds himself threading his way along a rough-hewn track through a decimated forest, and there is Sam Winchester, watching, wary for his approach outside a ramshackle hut at the edge of the sparse woods.

“Gabriel!” The hunter relaxes his stance as his eyes light with surprise and…is that a hint of pleasure? Gabriel can’t be sure. If it is, he's about to dash it.

“Hey.” He tries to smile but his lips won’t quite form the expression. He staves off Sam’s attempted bear-hug with a raised hand. “I—uh—brought company.”

At these words, Lucifer reveals himself, stepping out of the meagre cover of the trees. “Sam!” he cries with overdone delight.

Sam blanches. He stumbles back a couple of paces. His eyes, when they seek Gabriel, are filled with bitter betrayal.

“Hey! This _wasn’t_ my idea!” Gabriel says. “I came in here to try and stop him.”

“He failed.” Lucifer quips. “As usual.”

There’s a conversation that seems to echo all around Gabriel. He can’t make out the words. It’s like he has been locked away inside some kind of shell. He knows Lucifer and Sam are arguing but he’s distanced from it…like being wrapped in a blanket in that half conscious state between sleeping and awake. Gabriel frowns. He tries to speak but time shifts again.

He’s standing in what looks like a kitchen. Or what’s left of one. There’s a table and chairs. There are empty beer bottles on the table and used coffee mugs and a couple of plates, with what looks like bacon grease smeared all over them. At least in here, with bright propane gas lanterns to light the room, the color spectrum looks better. Sam’s there, and he’s obviously expecting some kind of response from Gabriel. To what, Gabriel doesn’t know. He can’t recall getting here, he doesn’t know what the conversation is about. He shrugs. “So, yeah, here I am and…um…sorry for bringing Luci down on you.”

Sam stares at him in silence for a long moment, puzzlement written all over his face.

_Okay, so not the answer he was looking for._

Sam sighs. “Like you said, you didn’t have much choice in the matter. Are you okay Gabriel?”

“Yeah. No.” Gabriel sighs. He considers telling Sam about the missing chunks of time, but decides that the kid has enough on his plate. “Not really, but I don’t think any of us is okay right now.”

Sam nods. “Well. Hang in there.”

Gabriel is suddenly achingly weary. He slumps into one of the rickety chairs and drops his head into his hands, elbows propped on the table.

 _Hang in there…_ is that the best Sam can do? He flinches when Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, shrugs the gesture away and blazes with sudden anger. Meeting Sam’s eyes. “Why, Sam? Why should I ‘hang in there?’ Give me one good reason not to give up!”

“I…”

“No, really, Sam. What have I got to live for? I’m weak, broken. _Mortal!_ With no hope of changing it without a booster shot…” He raises his eyes heavenward. “And the chances of that happening are next to none. Michael’s at full power. Somehow, so is Lucifer. I can’t _help_ you and since that’s the only reason you seem to want me around…” The weariness seeps into his bones and Gabriel slumps over the table, resting his head on his folded arms. He sighs. “Asmodeus was right. I _am_ nothing. Worthless.”

“Gabriel…wha…where has this come from?” Sam’s voice, rough with emotion.

“I wish he _had_ swallowed that last drop i]of grace. I wish… I wish you had never convinced me to take it back!”

“No. Don’t say that. None of that is true. Gabriel…I…”

Sam reaches for him again and Gabriel can’t bear it. He scrambles to his feet, blindly stumbling towards the door. “I have to…I…” He doesn’t look back when Sam calls to him to wait.

Gabriel has almost reached the door when Crowley steps inside. Gabriel will never get used to the thin, red haired vessel with the sharp features. It’s just one more thing that’s wrong about the cosmos since Asmodeus.

The demon stops just inside the door, taking in Sam’s pained expression and Gabriel’s defeated posture. He raises an eyebrow. “Bad time?”

“Oh…shut up!” Gabriel pushes past him and out of the house.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter of this story so far. Hope you enjoy!

Crowley watches Gabriel leave and then turns to Sam. “Right,” he says. “Bad time.”

“What do you want, Crowley?” Sam is looking over the demon’s shoulder in the direction that Gabriel went.

“I got bored with the refugee crisis,” Crowley replies. “Came to see if there’s anything decent to drink.”

“I’m sorry if our problems aren’t entertaining enough.” Sam meets the demon’s eyes for a moment. “We’re trying to save these people, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh,  I’ve noticed. _Palmas incessabili, ad infinitum, ad nauseum_ …”[i] Crowley paces around the kitchen as he speaks. He opens the refrigerator, peers inside. He closes it after a moment, and begins to search through the cupboards.

“There isn’t anything better than beer,” Sam tells him.

“So…While you’re busy ‘saving the world…s…’” Crowley turns to him. “You’re too blind to see that you’re driving that albatross to his death.”

“What?”

“Gabriel,” Crowley jerks his head in the direction of the door. “That damned fool…and anyone who loves a _Winchester is_ a damned fool, is besotted with you to the point that he’ll die to prove it.”

“Gabriel?” Sam frowns and averts his gaze, he knows well enough, that what Crowley is saying is true, at least, he would have thought so once. “He… doesn’t love me. He’s proved that more than once. Oh, sure, he has some kind of—” At a loss for the right word, Sam shrugs. “but I don’t think it’s love.”

Crowley hisses a breath through his teeth. “I don’t know _why_ I bother with you idiots! You’re not dealing with a human, Moose, so you’re reading it all  wrong, naturally.” A shrug. “It’s no skin off my nose if you throw it all away, but my kitten would never forgive me if I didn’t at least _attempt_ to save his brother’s life. Open your eyes, for Cas’s sake and do something, Harry Potter, before your already sullied hands are stained with the silver blood of a unicorn.”

 

**~~-C C C-~~ **

Feelings that he can barely identify churn within Gabriel. Anger is in the forefront, hurt is there, too and something deeper, darker. Akin to what he felt in the final days of his sojourn in hell. He’s not sure he knows the word for it, but it aches and it feels like viscous mud that sucks at him, pulling him downward into a dark spiraling morass from which he knows there can be no escape.

He’s looking for Castiel, but the Seraph is nowhere in sight.

“What’s the hurry, brother?”

“Lucifer.”

The light bearer smiles, inclines his head. Jack stands a little behind Lucifer, off to one side. It’s obvious they’d been walking together. Gabriel frowns. He knows Dean told Jack not to associate with his ‘so called’ father.

“Was I hurrying?”

“From where I stand? Even given your current mortal state, you were definitely running… to, or from something is the question.”

“Not one I have to give you the answer to.” Gabriel glances around, hoping Castiel will appear out of thin air in that way he has, but the seraph remains absent.

“Lucifer and I are going on a vacation,” Jack puts in. He steps forward, his eyes shining with pleasure and anticipation.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea, Jack.”

“No, it is! If we go away, he’s promised he will never hurt my friends again.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Lemme tell ya kid, his promises are never worth the breath he uses to utter them.”

“Gabriel, you wound me.” Lucifer pouts. “This is one I intend to keep. After all, with Jack by my side, what need is there to torment the stupid mud monk…er I mean what else do I need?” He turns a fond glance on the Nephilim. “He’s my son.”

“Oh, spare me,” Gabriel sneers. “I don’t see it lasting five minutes. You’ll get bored, or annoyed about something and…where else would you turn your wrath?”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“Yeah, heard _that_ one before, too.” Gabriel turns to Jack. “He’s using you, Jack. If you hang out with him long enough, trust me, you’re gonna get burned.”

“No.” Jack shakes his head for emphasis. “He promised me. I trust him.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

Lucifer lets out a longsuffering breath. “C’mon, Jack. Let’s go do whatever it was you wanted me to do and then get out of here. Your uncle Gabe has issues with me over a past he won’t let go of.” He steps past Gabriel.

“No! I’m not letting you take him,” Gabriel grabs Lucifer’s arm. “You corrupt everything you touch, Lucifer. Well, I won’t stand by and see it happen to _Jack!_ ”

Lucifer goes still and cold. “Stand down, brother. I warn you.”

Gabriel feels ice leech into the very marrow of his bones.  “No. Not this time. I’ve backed down to you for the last time.”

* * *

 

[i] Unceasingly, to an infinite degree, until I am sick with exhaustion


	22. Chapter 22

Sam wavers, caught between staying in the kitchen and running after Gabriel. He’s aware of Crowley’s impatience. He gnaws on his bottom lip, shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Take my advice,” Crowley says. “Life is too short to throw away something as rare as this.”

Sam sucks in a breath. “It’s…complicated. There’s Dean…”

“Who steps out on you any time he feels like it. Besides, complicated is a word humans use for terrifying. I get it. It _is_ terrifying to be loved by an angel. I spent enough time, and wasted enough lives fighting it…and even _you_ may run out of second chances, kid.”

Sam closes his eyes.

The muffled sound of raised voices penetrates from outside. Gabriel, Lucifer and above it all, Jack.

“Stop! Stop it! STOP! YOU PROMISED ME.”

“Time’s up,” Crowley murmurs.

“Shit!” Sam is galvanized to action, he pushes past Crowley and sprints through the door into the sepia toned day.

Gabriel and Lucifer face off in the middle of the charred remains of the yard. Both of them have blades in hand. They circle one another sizing each other up and watching for an opening. Sam suppresses the urge to call Gabriel’s name. He’s experienced enough in hand to hand fighting to know the smallest distraction can spell serious injury or worse. He stops a couple of yards away, watching anxiously.

From somewhere behind Sam, Crowley clucks his tongue, muttering something about blind fools. Sam ignores him, his every sense focused on the fight playing out before him. He prays silently. _Cas, Cas…Cas, come here, quickly._

“No!” Jack suddenly pushes between the two archangels he faces Lucifer. “You _promised!”_

“Stand aside, Jack,” Gabriel says. “This is between Lucifer and me.”

“You promised if I agreed to go with you, you’d leave them alone,” Jack insists. “All of them! You said you’d leave all of them alone. I _agreed_.”

“That was before your uncle decided to get in my way.” Lucifer pushes Jack aside and closes in on Gabriel.

“NO!” Jack rounds on him. “I won’t let you hurt him.” He flings a hand out and a flash of power lashes at Lucifer knocking him to the ground.

“Stay _out_ of this, Jack!” Gabriel lunges but misses his blow as Lucifer scrambles to his feet, meeting Gabriel’s blade with his own. The impact sends a knell through the air as people begin to gather from everywhere.

Sam takes a half-step forward. He’s unsure whether to intervene.

Gabriel breaks the clinch, his blade sliding along the metal of Lucifer’s, striking sparks. He dances backwards as Lucifer swings at him. He takes a glancing blow to one side, but it’s shallow. He whirls and there’s a gust of wind as invisible wings lash at Lucifer’s face, driving him backwards. Choking dust kicks up from the ground, obscuring the view.

Jack roars and the air reverberates with raw power. Both archangels are knocked off balance.

Lucifer feints, thrusts, and Jack steps in front of him. There’s an explosion of light and sound, everyone watching is knocked off their feet as though struck by lightning.

Sam’s blinded. His ears are filled with a horrible buzzing. He realizes it’s from the acoustic shock. He shakes his head, pushes to his feet.

Jack stands, swaying in the middle of the yard. Lucifer’s blade embedded in his belly. He stares at it, his expression almost curious. He raises confused blue eyes to Lucifer’s face. “You… promised.” He steps backwards. The blade slips away, bloodied, dripping. Jack stumbles but quickly catches his balance. He lunges at Lucifer. “I _hate_ you!”

“No!” Gabriel lurches to his feet, seizes the Nephilim’s shoulders, trying to pull him away.

Lucifer holds Jack off with one hand. All of his focus is on Gabriel though. He raises his blade.

“This time, brother…you _die!”_ He drives the blade deep into Gabriel’s belly.

Gabriel falters, stills. His eyes go wide. He stares up at his brother. His hands slide away from Jack’s shoulders.

“DIE!” Lucifer thrusts the blade in deeper.

It seems to take an age for Gabriel to fall.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write this chapter quickly, so please forgive me if there are mistakes, but I couldn't wait to see if Gabriel was going to survive. ;)

_Everything seems to slow down and speed up at the same time. Sam runs, but his feet feel like lead weights. He’s aware of someone screaming. He hears his own feet pounding across the ground, he hears the awful, painful rasp of someone struggling to breathe._

_He drops to his knees on the blasted ground and reaches for Gabriel._

“S-ssaa-aam…” Grabriel’s hands grip the front of Sam’s shirt, leaving bloody smears across the fabric. He chokes, makes a dreadful wheezing sound. Blood bubbles between his lips and trickles across his cheeks. His champaign eyes are clouded with fear and pain, unfocused as he searches the sky. “Sa…”

“Hey, Hey. I got you. Don’t…don’t talk. I…it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. Hold on.”

“For pity’s sake, roll him on his side!” Crowley’s voice. “He’s drowning in his own blood.” The demon grabs Gabriel and pulls him forward.

Sam resists for a moment, but then sees what the demon is trying to do. He does what he can to help. “Cas! Where’s Cas?”

Gabriel coughs. He groans. Blood flows from his mouth.

Sam sobs helplessly.

“Sam?” Dean is suddenly in front of him. "Sam!” Dean none too gently cuffs Sam’s ear before steady hands quickly check him over.

“It’s not…” Sam rasps. “Not my blood. Gabriel…”

“Okay,” Dean says. He turns his attention to the archangel.

“Dean, what do you need.” Mary kneels at Dean’s side

Sam closes his eyes in relief.

“Here, Mom,” Dean grabs her hand, presses it to Gabriel’s side. “Put pressure here.” He looks at Sam. “Okay, we’re gonna lift him. On three.”

“Where’s Cas?” Sam scans the concerned faces all around him. “Cas!”

Somehow between Dean, Mary, Bobby and Sam, they manage to get Gabriel up off the ground, the archangel crying out in pain as they bear him up and towards the house.

Dean fires a barrage of questions. What happened? Why wasn’t anyone keeping an eye on Jack? Why was Lucifer roaming freely around the house and yard…and what the _hell_ got into Gabriel’s stupid head to make him try to take Lucifer on?

There are no real answers, but Sam tries to field the questions. He understands that Dean is trying to get him to think clearly. Somewhere deep inside, he’s grateful, but mostly he’s afraid. He keeps looking for Castiel.

They carry Gabriel into the house. Dean sweeps the bottles, cups and dishes off the battered table and they lay him there. Gabriel grabs Sam’s hand in his own and holds so tight that the hunter feels his knuckles grind against each other. The pain focuses him. He looks into Gabriel’s eyes. “I’m here.”

“I…’m alive,” Gabriel gasps. “Why ‘m I alive?”

“You’re okay,” Sam assures. “We’re gonna help you. You’ll be okay.”

A violent shudder wracks Gabriel and his teeth click together. He moans weakly. “Cold,” he whispers. “So…cold.”

Someone is tugging at Sam’s arm. Irritated he swings around ready to fight, only to meet concerned blue eyes. Mary gently pulls at his arm again. “Sam, let them work. “ She nods her head, guiding him away from the table. “These people know what to do.”

Sam glances back, sees Bobby and several other people gathered around Gabriel. One of them fits an oxygen mask over Gabriel’s face. Sam turns to Mary.

“I can’t lose him again.”

“You won’t.” A soft smile graces her lips and Sam is struck with how lovely his mother is. “He’s in good hands.” She guides him towards the living room.

Sam balks. “I won’t leave him,” he says. “I’ll stay out of the way, but I need to be here.”

Mary seems about to disagree, then she relents with a small shake of her head. She presses him into a chair and goes back to the cluster of people around the archangel.

Sam clasps his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. _Where the hell is Cas? Castiel! We need you!_

The door bursts open and Jack storms into the room. His shirt is bloodstained, but the Nephilim looks unhindered by the wound he received at Lucifer’s hands. He charges at the table and is immediately seized by Mary, Dean and Bobby who push him away, all of them remonstrating, explaining and insisting that he stay back.

“Let me see him!” Jack says. “I can help him.”

“The best thing you c’n do for him is let my people tend him,” Bobby growls. “You can see him once we get him stabilized.”

Jack opens his mouth to speak but Mary intervenes. Her hand gentle on his arm. “You’re hurt. Let me take care of that, and then we will see if Gabriel is ready to see you.”

“I’m not.” Jack half shrugs, trying to dislodge her hand, but he meets her eyes, and, after a moment, he slumps. “I’ll wait,” he says. “But please hurry. I _can_ help him.”


	24. Chapter 24

It’s late at night before Sam is allowed to get anywhere near Gabriel again. He'd watched in strained silence as Bobby’s people worked to stabilize Gabriel. He’s learned, during that time that these ‘people’ not only have more battle experience between them than Sam, Dean and Bobby combined, but some of them come from medical backgrounds. There’s a girl named Hannah who was a nurse, she holds a masters in wound care. Another member of the group, a guy named Axel, is a former paramedic. Good people to have in their corner right now.

When Hannah beckons him over to the bedside, Sam sinks down on the chair she has placed next to Gabriel’s bunk, and takes hold of the archangel’s hand. He lifts it, presses his lips to Gabriel’s knuckles and then blushes and clears his throat when he realizes Hannah hasn’t left.

Hannah smiles at him. “Now,  back to the situation at _hand_ ,” she says with a wink. Her expression sobers as she glances at Gabriel. Sam follows her gaze.

“He’s lucky to be alive,” Hannah says. “We did the best we could for him, but our resources are limited. He has a deep laceration to his liver, and he lost a lot of blood. His nose is broken, he’s lost a couple of teeth. He’s stable and comfortable, but he’s not out of danger yet.”

Sam closes his eyes, still seeing the bruised face of the archangel etched on the back of his eyelids.  _I should have been with you. I should have stopped this, instead of letting my stupid pride get in the way._  "God…”

Hannah rests a hand on Sam’s shoulder for a moment. “He’s strong. A fighter.” She moves to the other side of the bed, fussing with IV tubes the way nurses do. “I’m gonna be right here by his side tonight. You should try to rest.”

“I will, in a while,” Sam says. He keeps hold of Gabriel’s hand and sends out another desperate prayer to Castiel.

The hours tick by slowly and Sam forgets to go rest. Hannah shoots him concerned glances now and then from her post at the foot of Gabriel’s bunk. She doesn’t speak, just takes notes, and occasionally gets up to adjust an IV line or take Gabriel’s pulse.

Around three in the morning, she turns a stern look on Sam. “He’s resting just fine. No fever, no signs of secondary infection.” Her lips draw into a thin line. “Sleep.”

Sam gets to his feet with an effort and stumbles towards the sofa in the living room. Despite his belief that sleep will be impossible, he drifts into a fitful doze almost as soon as he lays down. He’s dimly aware of someone laying a blanket over him at some point, but can’t find the energy to open his eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

After nowhere-near-enough hours of sleep, Sam is awakened by a commotion in another part of the house.  He can hear Dean yelling, and Bobby trying to calm him down. Mary’s voice is a part of the general  hubbub as well. Sam’s heart lurches and he sits up, struggling with the blanket which has become entangled with his legs. He battles his way free and bolts for the makeshift hospital ward in the kitchen.

Hannah looks up from her medical charting. There are dark shadows under her eyes, and her hair is not quite so neatly coiled as it was last night. She smiles at him. “Darn, I thought you were the dayshift coming in.”

Sam looks from her weary eyes to the bed. Gabriel lies as he had been when Sam left. His eyes closed, the bruising around his eyes and lips is more pronounced, but he’s breathing.

“Would y’mind going to tell your brother to hold it down? We’re trying to run an ICU here,” Hannah says.

Sam glances at her, then turns his attention to Gabriel again. “Is he…”

“There’s no change. He’s comfortable. Sedated for now.”

Sam releases a long, shaky breath. “Dean probably needs coffee,” he says. “I’ll see what arrangements have been made for…” he makes a gesture that takes in the kitchen and turns to leave.

“I take mine white with two…”

Sam smiles, liking the nurse. He heads in the direction of Dean’s voice.

Dean, Bobby and Mary are in a spare bedroom down the hall from the living room. Dean’s still talking loudly, although his volume has decreased from full-on shouting. In the center of the room, with the others gathered around him is Castiel.

Sam is hard-pressed not to yell himself. “Cas!” He strides into the room. “Where the hell…” Sam breaks off as the seraph turns to him.

Castiel looks tired and one side of his face is a livid patina of bruising. One eye is swollen shut and his bottom lip is split. He looks almost as bad as Gabriel, but for the fact he’s on his feet.

“What…happened?”

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel winces. “I was nowhere near Hell. In fact, I was attempting to get into Heaven.”

“I’ve been praying to you all night,” Sam says. “Gabriel…”

“I heard your prayers. They were very…distracting.”

“Why didn’t you answer? Why didn’t you  _come?!”_

“I had more pressing concerns.”

“What? More pressing than…you know he could have  _died?”_  Now Sam’s tone ratchets up a notch. “He still  _might!”_

Castiel releases a long, slow breath. His blue eyes lock with Sam’s and he gives a slight shake of his head. “I could have died, too,” he says. “I very nearly did, and I was doing it for Gabriel. Sam, I told you once before I don’t have the power to heal him. I can repair the physical damage to his vessel, but what Gabriel  _needs_  is grace. His own grace.”

Sam takes a slow breath and lets it out. “And what, you were gonna bring him some?”

“No. I can’t do that.”

“Then…”

“But there is an artefact in Heaven. If I could bring that to Gabriel, or bring Gabriel to  _it…_ ” Castiel bows his head. “But I failed. I was opposed and I couldn’t get in.”

“I might have known you’d be off risking your foolish pigeon neck for that idiot.” Crowley steps into the room, fixes Castiel with a glare. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing? I could have helped.”

“I saw no need to risk both our lives.”

Crowley scoffs. “Idiot.”

Sam steps forward. “Cas…please. Come and see Gabriel. At least heal his injuries.  We can…work out what else to do later.”

The Seraph nods. “Yes.”

They go to the kitchen with Dean, Bobby, Crowley and Mary on their heels.

Castiel nods a greeting to Hannah who has yet to be relieved by the day shift. He goes to Gabriel’s side and looks down at him, shaking his head. “What possessed you, brother?”

“Can you do anything?” Sam hovers on the other side of the bunk, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I can.” Castiel presses two fingers to Gabriel’s forehead.

Everyone watches as the bruising subsides, color returns to Gabriel’s cheeks and his breathing seems to ease.

“Whoa,” Hannah breathes. “Dude, you are  _so_  hired.”

“It is not enough.” Castiel shoots a glance at Hannah and an expression close to a smile touches his lips before he sobers, looking at the sleeping archangel. “Without his grace, Gabriel will still die.”

“About that,” Dean steps forward. “Why  _isn’t_  he dead? We all saw Lucifer stab him, but he survived. How is that even possible?”

Castiel lets out a breath. “Because he has very little grace.”

Sam frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen angels die before,” Castiel says. “There is always a flash of light, an… explosion, a blaze…”

Sam nods.

“It happens because the blade ignites the grace when they touch one another. Gabriel doesn’t have sufficient grace to create a fire hot enough to kill him. Just as it won’t sustain him for much longer either.”

“You said there’s some artefact in heaven,” Sam says.

“Yes. Gilead’s Balm.”

“Wait, isn’t that some kinda perfumed ointment?” Bobby says.

“As humans know it, yes.” Castiel nods, “But the ointment wasn’t what really healed people. It was a… a reagent. It invoked the power of the true balm of heaven.”

“So…” Sam says. “If Gabriel can get hold of this thing…?”

“He only needs to get  _near_ it. It will enable him to renew what little grace he still possesses.”

“And you went on a solo mission to try and get this ‘palm…’” Dean scowls. “How many times have I…”

“Balm,” Castiel corrects. “It seemed more expedient to go alone.”

Dean shakes his head and turns away. “Damn it!”

“Right, well, that’s easy then.” Crowley says. “A simple suicide mission to get this feathered freak next to heaven’s radiator. Piece of… _lunacy_.”

“We can do it,” Castiel says. “As soon as Gabriel is a little stronger.”


	26. Chapter 26

It takes a few hours for the sedation to wear off. Castiel says he left it in Gabriel’s system so that the archangel would rest for as long as he needed to. Even with Castiel’s healing, the Seraph says that the vessel needed to recover.

Sam sits by him and is there when Gabriel stirs. He thinks it is possibly one of the cutest, funniest thing he’s ever seen Gabriel do.

Gabriel wrinkles his nose and swipes at the oxygen tubing still wrapped across his face. He’s been downgraded from a full face mask to nasal prongs and they’re obviously annoying, because the archangel tosses them aside and rubs furiously at the place they were.

Sam suppresses a chuckle. “Hi there, sleepy head.”

Gabriel cracks one eye open. “Those things _itch_ ,” he grumbles.

“I know.” Sam smiles. “How do you feel?”

“Alive.”

“Well, that’s a start.” Sam realizes he has hold of Gabriel's hand and lets go.

“Hey. I liked that.”

“Me too.” Sam takes hold of the archangel's hand again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m in one piece and I feel better than I did when I passed out, so…yeah?” Gabriel frowns. “By the way…how _am_ I alive?”

Sam gives him the explanation Castiel told them.

“Makes sense, I guess. Hey, bright side. I’m the first angel to survive death by Lucifer…twice.”

Sam smiles and bows his head, unsure how to broach the bad news.

“It’s okay, Sammich. I know.” Gabriel’s tone is sober. “No grace, no me.”

“Maybe not.” Sam looks up meeting Gabriel’s eyes. “Cas has a plan.”

“Cas always has a plan,” Gabriel says. “And most of them don’t work out.”

“It’s worth a try, though, right?” Sam holds his gaze. “ _We’re_ worth a try.”

Gabriel says nothing. He looks into Sam’s eyes, his own filled with a mixture of hope and worry. “Sam…did you just say…”

“’We.’ Yeah.” Sam leans in and brushes his lips against Gabriel’s. “I’ve been an idiot,” he murmurs before taking a deeper, longer taste of that perfectly kissable mouth. He likes the soft tickle of stubble against his lips. He swallows the shaky sigh Gabriel breathes into his mouth.

When Sam pulls back, Gabriel is flushed and breathing a little unsteadily.

“So,  what’s the plan?” Gabriel swallows hard. “While I can still think at all.”

“Cas thinks that you could use this artefact in Heaven. Gilead’s Balm.”

Gabriel sits up shaking his head. “Go back to Heaven? No way!”

“Gabriel...”

“No, Sam! I can’t go back there. I won’t.”

“If it can heal you, restore your grace then you have to try. I need… I need you to take care of yourself.” Sam rubs his thumb across the back of Gabriel’s hand.

“I can’t do it. I _really_ can’t, Sam. You don’t understand.”

“No, I do. I get it. It’s scary to go back home, especially now. You’re practically mortal. I understand. You’ve always been used to being…well amazing. I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose that. But I do understand wanting to give up. I’ve been there. Dean told me after I got out of the cage, the best thing to do was keep going, push through. Even if it’s just one day, one hour, one _step_ at a time.”

Gabriel scowls and pulls his hand away from Sam’s touch. “I’m not some _weakling_ , Sam. I stood up to Lucifer and survived.”

“Yeah, you lived. You got lucky _because_ your grace is low. He didn’t finish the job, because you’re no threat to him.” Sam hates himself for the words, especially when Gabriel turns wounded eyes to him. He pushes on. “Your grace is almost gone. It’s going to _kill you_ and Lucifer knows that.”

“Wow, you sure have a high opinion of me.”

“Please, Gabriel. It’s not about what I think of you. It’s about keeping you alive.”

“I made a vow the day I left that place that I’d _never_ set foot across the threshold again. It represents _everything_ I despise!”

“Believe me, I can relate. But…I went back, Gabriel. I went back because my family needed me.” He locks eyes with the archangel. “ _Your_ family needs _you_ now.”

Gabriel bows his head, closes his eyes. He’s silent for a long moment. He pulls in a long, shaky breath.

“Dad dammit,” he murmurs.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my Birthday today, so I decided to post a relatively sweet chapter with only a teensy amount of disagreement between characters. Plus, a little Castiel/Crowley for those readers whom I know love that pairing as much as I do.
> 
> * * *

Crowley stands by the open fireplace in the living room. He holds a cut crystal glass, from which he sips a fine malt whiskey. He rolls the liquid over his tongue,  swirling the glass so the amber drink catches glancing sparkles from the fire. He grunts with satisfaction. “There is nothing better than the original Glencraig.”

“Did you time travel to acquire that?” Castiel stands beside him, studying the whiskey decanter.

“Who wouldn’t, if they could, Kitten?” Crowley savors another mouthful. “Is your brother on board with the return to Heaven idea? By the bye, you haven’t exactly outlined how you plan to get in.” Setting his glass down, Crowley faces the Seraph, studying the still  dark bruising around Castiel’s eye.

“That is something I need your assistance with.”

“You do know I’m something of a _persona non grata_ inside the pearly gates, love.”

“Yes. It’s something else.”

“Huh.” Another sip of whiskey. “Say on.”

“I need your help to capture an angel.”

Crowley frowns, he reaches up to gently rub his thumb over some of the bruising. “You’ve already been in a fight with angels this week. Why go back for more?” The bruising fades a little under his touch.

“Because, if we have this angel, it will be a simple matter of walking into heaven. No fighting, no bruises.” Castiel turns his head slightly, grazing his lips against Crowley’s hand.

“So who is this angel, and don’t tell me it’s Michael.”

“Not Michael. His chief inquisitor. Castiel.”

“You want to battle your shadow-self? You could just read Jung.”

Castiel huffs a breath. “I know the works of Jung,” he says. “I’m serious. If we capture Castiel, hold him prisoner. I can impersonate him and take you and Gabriel to Heaven as his captives.”

“Oh sure, that’ll work!” Gabriel enters the living room leaning on Sam’s arm. He moves to the sofa and sits down. “Not! Cassie, you’re completely out of your gourd.”

“I have to say I agree with your brother. The plan has potential, Kitten, but you may need to sweeten the pot a tad bit more to really pull it off,” Crowley says.

“How do you suggest I do that?”

“I’ll go with you!” Jack comes in from the kitchen.

Turning to him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, you won’t.”

“I will and if you try to go without me I’ll just follow you,” Jack says. He folds his arms across his chest in defiance. “You can’t _make_ me stay here.”

“If you got hurt I’d never…”

“I _won’t_ get hurt. I fought Lucifer and I’m fine.”

As much as Castiel hates to acknowledge it, Jack is right. There is no way he can make the Nephilim do anything. He lets out a breath. His shoulders droop in defeat.  Not since Claire, has Castiel felt so challenged as a parent.

“So, how do we catch this ‘inquisitor?’” Sam looks from Castiel to Gabriel, to Crowley.

“We use the boy as bait,” Crowley says.

Jack’s face lights up with excitement. “Yes!”

“No!” Castiel insists.

“It makes sense,  Cassie.” Gabriel says. “Jack’s a nuclear warhead. Capturing him would earn this Castiel major kudos with Michael.”

“Heaven would swing wide the gates for such a prize,” Crowley adds.

Castiel bows his head. “If anything happens to Jack…”

“Yes,” Crowley says. “If the boy falls into Michael’s clutches, we’re all dead.”

Jack leaps at Castiel with a whoop and hugs him furiously. “We’ll _win!_ ”

“Well then, I guess we should discuss tactics,” Gabriel says.


	28. Chapter 28

Sam is expecting a fight when they tell Dean about the plan to capture Michael’s Inquisitor. He’s surprised when after a moment of thought, Dean nods and ask what they need him to do.

The resistance comes from Bobby.

“You know this guy is bad news, right? He’s rumored to have tortured Alistair…Hell’s best torturer _and_ got him to spill the beans on how to find and kill Lillith. They say that’s what sent him insane and turned him into the monster he is now.”

Dean and Castiel exchange a long, speaking glance.

“Yeah, and we’re up against Heaven’s douchiest douche-bag,” Dean says. “To have even a glimmer of a chance at winning, we need every ally we can get. If Cas says there’s something in heaven that can heal Gabriel,  then I say we take a shot at it.”

Shooting a glance at Gabriel, Sam notes the look of astonishment on the archangel’s face. He can’t blame him. Of all the people he’d expect to advocate for Gabriel, Dean isn’t usually the first that comes to mind.

“So…” Dean looks around at the group, finally settling on Castiel. “How’s this going down?”

Castiel shuffles his feet. He glances at Crowley and then at Gabriel. “Actually…You and Sam are not coming.”

“And that’s when the fight started,” Gabriel quips a moment before both Sam and Dean round on Castiel.

“What do you mean we’re not coming?” Dean says at the exact same moment as Sam demands to know why not?

“Because,” Castiel says, levelling a look at Dean. “To enter heaven, you have to die. You have to become a soul. Death has told you that when you die, there will be no coming back.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “And Sam and I have both died since then and come back again.”

“It’s too big a risk, Dean. Billie sent you back last time, for whatever reasons, and Lucifer resurrected Sam for his own ends. We don’t know whether the same…Death presides here. I don’t know what will happen if either of you should die here, and we don’t have anyone powerful enough to raise you.”

“There’s me,” Jack says. “You have me.”

“You have never raised anyone from the dead,” Castiel says. “We don’t even know if you _could.”_

Jack’s expression turns militant. “I’m so _tired_ of you bossing me around!”

“I’m _not_ bossing you around I am offering guidan…”

“Stop!” Dean steps between them. “There’s another way.”

“What other way?” Sam looks at his brother.

“Doctor Robert’s magic heart stopper.”

Sam shakes his head. “No. No, Dean!”

“Sam, we can’t get into heaven alive, so…”

“The last time we tried that I nearly lost you!”

“Nearly. And this is different. We’ve got trained staff on hand. Hannah, Axel.”

“Trained staff with _no_ resources, Dean!”

“The first time I did it, Dr Robert had a makeshift clinic in the back of a Deli. And this time we have Jack as backup.” Dean glances at the Nephilim who nods, beaming. “It’ll be fine, Sam.”

“I don’t like it, Dean,” Sam says.

“Do you want to help Gabriel or not?”

“That’s beside the point…”

“Look, you two can stand here hollerin’ at each other until Hell freezes over, or you can try to work out some kinda compromise.” Bobby stares the brothers down. “We don’t have _time_ for this crap!”

“I’ll go,” Sam says. He meets Dean’s eyes. “This is my fight, Dean. I’d feel better if you were back here. Someone’s got to show Hannah and Axel how this works.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but then relents. He nods. “All right, but if you don’t make it back…”

“I will make it back.” Sam puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’ll make sure of it.”


	29. Chapter 29

They don’t have to go looking for “Shadow Castiel” as Crowley has taken to calling him. He finds them. Of course, Michael sent him after Gabriel. How could they have not known that would happen?

It’s a simple matter of holy oil coupled with some kind of spell that Crowley casts, and they have the inquisitor locked down in a heavily warded and equally well guarded shed.

Sam tries to ignore every instinct screaming at him that it was all too easy. He tries to ignore a lot of things. He especially tries not to think of the fact that he’s about to die for this cause, with no guarantee that he will be able to come back.

In the end, it is Axel who administers the lethal drug to Sam, and then only under sufferance because he won’t see Dean do it, despite Dean’s assurances that he knows what he is doing. Hannah would neither administer the drug, nor remain the room while anyone else did.  Sam understands that. She is every inch the protective, caring nurse and to do someone harm, even in the name of the greater good doesn’t sit right with her. Sam can remember a time when he felt the same way. That was a long time ago.

Sam is on the sofa in the living room. About as far removed from anything that resembles a hospital bed as he can get. He’s long held a fear of such beds, and dying in one just seems like too much of a temptation to offer fate, if she even exists in this dimension.

He watches nervously as Axel prepares the hypodermic syringe.

Sitting on the floor next to where Sam lies, Gabriel grasps Sam’s hand as Axel prepares to inject him.  “I’m right here,” he says. “I’ll see you in heaven.”

“A little pinch,” Axel intones automatically, and Sam manages a nervous chuckle.

He feels the prick of the needle, the world tips sideways and goes black for a second.

Sam cries out as he feels everything fall away.

“Sam!” A familiar voice calls.

He can’t see, he can’t feel anything, the world seems upside down. He can’t move, he can’t breathe. _This is wrong! This is all just completely wrong._

“Sam. This way.” Something tugs at him.

Suddenly the world is filled with radiant light. Sam winces as it bursts upon him like sunlight falling into a long-dark room. He can make out a shape, blurred and indistinct.

“Gabriel?”

“In the…wavelength.”

“I can’t make you out properly.”

“It takes a minute. Focus. You need to pull yourself together, Sammich, literally, you're smoking out all  over.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“You don’t need to, dummy…” Gabriel chuckles. “Just…be.”

“Right…uh…how?”

“You’ve practiced mediation? Yoga? Find your center.”

“Oh…yeah…okay.” Sam lets himself still a moment. Focuses his energies on that small still place within himself. He feels a tingling sensation all over. “It’s working…I…” He opens his eyes and stumbles back  a pace at the sight that greets him.

A creature such as Sam has only seen in books of mythology and lore stands in front of him. A mighty griffin, it’s leonine body is tan and it has white socks on it’s paws.  The shoulders are topped by the majestic head of a bird resembling a bald eagle with the most exquisite blue eyes Sam has ever beheld.

“Castiel?” Sam chuckles as the birdlike head inclines in exactly the way that Cas’s vessel bows his head in greeting.

“Now do you get the whole grubby trench coat vibe?” The creature on the right speaks.

Sam studies him in amazement. He is golden light from head to toe, strangely wraith like, smoky, blurred, sharply focused all at the same time. Sam can't seem to look right at him. Sam makes out the outline of wings, he tries to count them, maybe six, he thinks. The rest is almost beyond Sam’s ability to comprehend or describe. The best he can think of is a golden lightning sprite with wings. Even that can’t convey exactly what he sees.

“G-Gabriel?” Sam says. ‘”You…you’re… your wings…”

The entity shimmers, is that a shrug? “Eh, what can I say? They’re not at their best.”

“Not at their…” Sam would shake his head if he could. “They’re beautiful… _you’re beautiful!”_

“Oh, stop it!”

"Why do you both look so different? I mean...Cas is a...a griffin?"

Gabriel laughs and the swirling light is shot through with a thousand rainbows. “Oh, right. You’re seeing us with your soul’s eyes. Cas’s not really a griffin, that might be the way your mind perceives him. It’s kind of apropos. He is a bit of a raptor in a kitty-cat’s body I suppose. But he’s not truly like anything you would have seen before.”

“Brother, humans have difficulty with these concepts. Let’s not overwhelm him.” Cas says. His voice feels to Sam like the tumultuous peal of wedding bells, and the brassy draught of the wind through pine trees in the mountains. It fills Sam with light and love and makes him want to laugh for the joy of it.

Gabriel chuckles. “Right? Cassiel always had the prettiest voice in the choir,” he says.

“Cas _tiel,”_ the Seraph insists.

A sudden lurching sensation of falling grips Sam. He doesn’t know how to stop it.

Castiel extends a wing to steady him. “There, you see? We have overburdened him,” he chides. “Let us take more familiar forms.”

“All right, all right, enough showing off,” Gabriel agrees. His shape shifts and blurs for a moment before he stands in front of Sam in the familiar vessel Sam has always known.

A moment later, the powerful griffin shifts into Castiel’s usual form, only different. He has ticks and twitches, his lips sneer and snarl, his hands shake, his eyes wander.

Gabriel instinctively takes a protective stance in front of Sam.

“It’s me,” Castiel hisses, then switches to heavily accented English. “Come.”

He sets off with Sam and Gabriel  in his wake.


	30. Chapter 30

Sam still can’t shake the feeling that all of this is too easy. They pass through the gates of heaven with little more than a perfunctory—and scornful—glance from the angels on watch. Either Castiel’s impersonation of his shadow self is flawless or they’re walking into a trap.

An angel whom Cas addresses as Lemuel meets them inside the gates, and says he is to escort ‘the prisoners’ to the cells. Castiel shakes his head.

“I will see them safely imprisoned,” he says in the thick Russian accent he has adopted.

Lemuel looks nonplussed at this. “Sir,” he says, his voice shaking just enough to be noticeable. “That’s not the usual protocol.”

Castiel draws himself up, he stares into Lemuel’s eyes. “Do you think to question Michael’s own inquisitor?”

“N-no, sir. Of course…” Lemuel half bows, makes a gesture indicating that Castiel should proceed. “It’s only that you don’t usually…”

“These are very special prisoners,” Castiel growls. “Not to be left to just anyone, you comprehend?”

“Yes... Of course.” Lemuel stands aside. “As you will, sir.”

Castiel inclines his head. He seizes Gabriel by one arm and shoves him forward. “Move.”

Sam glances around nervously, then hastens to fall in beside Gabriel. They leave Lemuel staring after them as they make their way down a long, featureless white corridor.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Sam mutters to Castiel.

“Trust me,” the Seraph says. He punctuates his words with a hand firmly between Sam’s shoulder blades, shoving him forward. “Hurry up!”

They reach a juncture in the corridor and Castiel pauses. “It’s that way,” he says, inidicating the direction with a jerk of his head. “I can sense it.”

Sam glances at Gabriel who nods confirmation. “Right,” Sam says, “Let’s…” He trails off as both Castiel and Gabriel do that whole inward-looking routine that signals angel radio communication. “What is it?”

“They’re onto us,” Gabriel murmurs.

“Go!” Castiel pushes them both in the direction he indicated. “I’ll…create a diversion.”

“Cassie…”

“Gabriel… _go!_ ” The Seraph shoves him, glancing at Sam. “Take him.”

Gabriel looks militant for a moment, and then backs down. “Don’t die, Brother.”

“I have no intention to.” Running footsteps sound from further back along the corridor. “Heal, and return.” Cas turns to face the coming enemies.

“Gabe, C’mon! I’m on borrowed time.” Sam grabs the archangel’s arm and takes to his heels.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Very Important Author's Note: Over this chapter and those that follow I will be borrowing from and using, some of the brilliant angel and feather lore created by[NorthernSparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernSparrow/pseuds/NorthernSparrow). This is done with her permission and I am extremely grateful to her for being so generous with her intellectual property. I could not have done this without her creative talents providing me with the platform to build on.**
> 
> * * *

 

 

 

 

 

Sam leads the way initially as they sprint along another seemingly identical corridor to the one they just left, but after a few strides, Gabriel runs ahead. Behind them, Sam can hear the clash of angel blades. He prays that Castiel will be okay and then nearly trips over his own feet as Gabriel suddenly ducks off to the left. The archangel seems to simply melt through a wall. Sam skids to a halt, staring in confusion. He turns in a circle, looking up, down and to either side.

“Gabriel?”

“I’m here.”

“Where? I can’t see you.”

“Faith,  Sam. Step through the wall.”

“What? I can’t…”

“It’s not solid, just…trust me.”

Sam takes a half step forward. “I…”

“Platform nine-and-three-quarters it, if it helps.”

“You want me to run through a _wall_?”

A chuckle. “It’s not a wall. Come on Sam, have I ever tricked y… wait, don’t answer that. I swear you can pass through it.” To prove his point, Gabriel comes back through the wall, and takes hold of Sam’s hand. “Come on. You were the one telling me to hurry a minute ago.” He steps to the wall, gently tugging on Sam’s hand.

Sam takes a step,  another. Closes his eyes, and steps.

Suddenly there is music all around him. Voices, instruments that he can’t name, it is fluid, without tempo and so beautiful that it makes Sam dizzy.

“What…What is that? Where _are_ we?”

“The inner sanctum.” Gabriel looks at him, smiles. “You may be the only human soul to ever come here.”

Sam blinks. “That music…”

“The choirs of heaven. They never stop.”

“They…they sing in Enochian?”

“Yeah.” A smile as Gabriel turns his head and closes his eyes. “They’re singing the histories right now. I always loved those.”

Sam watches Gabriel’s face, the pure joy that radiates from him. “You miss it.”

“What?” the archangel opens his eyes, turns to Sam with a scoff. “Nah!” He makes a dismissive gesture. “C’mon, the balm is this way.” He hasn’t let go Sam’s hand, and Sam doesn’t see a need to remind him. They walk towards an ornate marble archway.

As they step through the archway the music fades a little. It is there, but it is background. Sam frowns, puzzled. There’s no door that closes behind them. The music should still be just as audible. He glances over his shoulder.

“Acoustics in heaven are not quite what you’re used to, Sammich.” Gabriel drops Sam’s hand and walks further into the chamber.

It’s white, and sterile, like the corridors. But at one end of the chamber is a small marble table and sitting on top of it, a jar that looks to be made of Alabaster. It’s sides are carved with Enochian sigils and a lion reclines across the lid, his jaws open to reveal powerful canine teeth.

“There it is,” Gabriel says. “Gilead’s Balm.”

“Okay, so…what now, do you drink it? Or…”

Gabriel chuckles. “I wouldn’t recommend drinking _that_!” He moves closer to the jar, and sinks to his knees in front of the table.

Sam stays back a little, watching him, occasionally glancing towards the entrance in case anyone has followed them.

Gabriel lifts his hands, places them reverently on the marble table.

He bows his head. “El Oh Heem Tzah Bah Oth,” he chants. “El Oh Heem Tzah Bah Oth.”

The archangel continues to chant those same words over again for a few moments. His voice takes on a different timbre, vibrating. Sam feels the intonations in his chest. The very air seems to shake with the vibration.

As Gabriel continues to chant, the alabaster jar picks up the vibration as well. Is shudders, revolving in place until  the roaring lion is facing Gabriel. Chinks of brilliant blue light begin to appear around the base of the lid and as Sam watches awed, the lid rises, floating in the air and the light becomes too dazzling to look at.

Gabriel’s chant changes pitch and the words alter. “Teer-ee-el,” he says, over again and the light’s brilliance increases until Sam has to shade his eyes with a hand.

A wind picks up in the chamber, whining and keening as it whirls around them. Sam is forced to his knees.

“TAPH THAR THAR _APH_!” Gabriel shouts into the wind, he raises his hands from the table and an enormous pair of golden wings unfurl from his shoulder blades, he warbles them over his head, the tips of the primary feathers extending into the heart of the brilliant blue light. The wings seem to catch fire and brilliant arcs of blue light dance and ripple across the feathers. Gabriel cries out. It’s the most agonized sound Sam has ever heard.

“Gabriel!” He tries to move towards the archangel but some force pins him to the spot.

To Sam’s horror, great feathers begin to fall from Gabriel’s wings, scattering to the floor all around him. The archangel howls in agony, writhing as each plume dislodges from its place.

Sam can only watch, sobbing helplessly, praying for it to stop. When he is certain that neither Gabriel, nor himself can withstand anymore the wind suddenly stills. Gabriel’s cries diminish to sobs and the beautiful, unearthly music penetrates to the chamber again. Sam squints against the light, convinced he can see movement within its rays. He struggles to make out what is happening.

Three beings of light—they’re not angels—at least no kind of angels Sam has ever seen, gather around Gabriel. One presses a crystal chalice to the Archangel’s lips urging him to drink a bright red fluid. Another smooths tendrils of light across his wings, which sprout new feathers under its touch. The third bathes his face with a cloth dipped in some shimmering silver substance. They whisper to him in Enochian. It’s a scene of such tender ministration that Sam weeps anew at the sight of it. How can Gabriel believe he is not welcomed in heaven in the face of this?

After a time, the beings fade away leaving Gabriel bathed in silver light, kneeling in front of the balm. His head is bowed and the bright wings with their new feathers lie folded along his back, they tremble slightly as Gabriel murmurs some words in Enochian.

Sam feels as though he has intruded on something incredibly intimate. He bows his head, keeps still and quiet as he waits for Gabriel to move.

“Sam…” Gabriel’s voice, hushed and reverent calls to him after a few minutes.

As Sam looks up,  he sees the lid of the jar descend, cutting off the blue light. It turns on it’s table so that the lion now looks towards the back wall.

Sam gets up a little unsteadily and makes his way to the archangel’s side. “Are you…okay?”

“Never better.” Gabriel looks up at him.

“Your wings…”

“Are good. I wasn’t expecting a forced moult…” Gabriel chuckles, glances down at the feathers scattered around him. “Hurts like a bitch…but I’m okay now.” As he speaks, he picks up a small feather from the floor. It’s tiny by comparison to the enormous primaries. He holds it for a moment, twirling it between his fingers as he studies it.

“What feather is that?” Sam can vaguely recall learning in high school that each group of feathers has a name, he knows the largest ones are primaries, but this feather is one of only two Gabriel shed.

“It’s an alula,” Gabriel says. “Each wing only has one. It’s used for balance in flight, and…other things. He smooths his fingers across the feather then picks up Its mate, smoothing it as well. He holds them for a moment longer and then gently tucks them both away inside his jacket. He looks up at Sam.

“We should get back to Cas and…we don’t know when you’re going to be pulled back, so…” He holds out a hand and Sam helps him to his feet.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Sam nods. “I hope Cas’s okay.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is more of an interlude than a chapter, but I hope you will like it.
> 
> * * *

“How long’s he been out?” Dean paces restlessly behind the sofa, watching his brother’s face turn a darker shade of blue by the minute. “Shouldn’t you revive him?” He glances at his watch.

Axel gives a slight shake of his head. “We’ve got a little more time. Sam and Gabriel were very specific about how long to wait.” The paramedic sighs. “I don’t like this anymore than you, but Gabriel said I’d know when it’s time. I’m going to revive him in two minutes, if I don’t ‘ _know’_ before then.”

“You do exactly what _you_ think is right.”  Dean points at Sam. “That’s my baby brother lying there. You get him back whole.” Dean pushes a hand through his hair, suddenly understanding all too well what Sam went through when he watched Dean pull this exact same stunt. “This was a stupid idea! Damn it!”

“Dean,” Bobby steps in front of him,  halting his desperate pacing. “Y’ain’t gonna help matters by losin’ your shit, now.”

“They are…hell _knows_ where they are, with Michael and his minions! My brother, an invalid archangel and…Cas… they've got half a snow ball’s chance in hell of success. Bobby, you’ve known us all our lives. You _know_ what he is to m…” But this Bobby doesn’t know, Dean realizes. _This_ is not their Bobby. This is not their world, this is not… _anything_ of theirs. He turns away, both hands digging into the nape of his neck. He feels… _fucking useless._

“I know somethin’ of what Sam means to ya. Been talkin’ with your mom, passing these nights waiting for you to come back for us. I can understand how hard this is, but you ain’t gonna change a damn thing by panicking.”

“Panicking…” Dean scoffs. “You say that when it’s someone _you_ love lying there.” Dean shakes his head.

“Knock it off, both of you!” Axel growls. “I need to focus here.”

Bobby nods an acknowledgement and turns to Dean. “I think we could both use a little air. A drink.”

 

* * *

 

 

In another part of the compound, Crowley stands in a darkened room, his hands clasped behind his back as he studies the creature chained before him. “So, you’re what my kitten could have become,” he muses. He paces a slow circle around Shadow-Castiel, looking him up and down. “Yeah. I saw the potential there a long time ago. Back around the time of the souls from purgatory fiasco." A tilt of his head as he looks the inquisitor over. “But he didn’t have the…” Crowley lifts a hand, waggles his fingers in the air. “X-Factor.” A soft huff of amusement. “Back then, I saw that as a weakness.”

“You make my head ache with this constant jabbering.” The inquisitor lifts his head, not quite fixing Crowley with a glare. The twitching, wandering eyes are unsettling. The demon shifts his weight, changes tack.

“The accent’s an interesting addition,” he says. “Why though? Unless it’s to differentiate you from the real Castiel? But then, what need would there be for that? You inhabit separate worlds.”

“It was an upgrade.”

“Huh.” Crowley pulls a metal flask from a pocket and takes a fortifying sip of whiskey. “Not sure I like it.”

“If you don’t have a point…and of course you don’t. Your very existence is pointless. We need no king of hell or crossroads here anymore. There are not enough humans left to provide sufficient power for one circle of Hades, much less an entire hell. So… no point. No need to be here. Leave me in peace.”

“But I do have a point…and a need to be here, my pet.” Crowley puts the flask away. “It’s you who is pointless. Now that Castiel and Gabriel have entered heaven, we don’t actually _need_ you.”

“He will not succeed. They will see through his ruse.”

“Maybe so…” Crowley draws an emerald encrusted dagger from an inner pocket and takes a small glass phial in his other hand. “But Gabriel only needs a moment or two with the balm, and whether they see through Castiel won’t matter.” He hunkers down in front of the inquisitor, the small blade flashing in the dim light as he turns it in his fingers. “ _My_ Castiel is always happy to bleed for the Winchesters…too bloody happy, as it happens. His need to be useful to them got him robbed of his grace, cast out of heaven, his wings burned off in the fall.”

“Tsk tsk tsk… Perhaps he chose to bleed for the wrong side.” Shadow Castiel sneers. “We are alike, him and me. In many ways." Unsteady blue eyes meet Crowley’s gaze. Cold, calculating. None of Castiel’s compassion or nobility shines in their depths. They are dead. Crowley shudders as a rush of hatred for this twisted facsimile boils through him.

“You’re nothing like him. The only thing you have that is remotely related is your grace.”

“Which you plan to take.”

“Yeah.”

“Take it, then. I don’t care. I am over this war. This interminable scrapping over…garbage.” His lips curl in a twisted smile. “Perhaps it will give your Castiel something else he lacks… Sense.”

Crowley has heard enough. He slashes the blade across the inquisitor’s throat with a snarl of detestation.


	33. Chapter 33

Sam and Gabriel hurry back down the same corridor they came along and find Castiel embroiled in battle with four angels. Sam has to admit he’s impressed. Three other angels lie on the floor. One appears to be dead. One is unconscious and the third is nursing a wound in her side. She looks familiar, but Sam can’t place her name.

Gabriel dashes by Sam, yelling at him to stay back. Realising he’s unarmed, Sam acknowledges the sense in that, and slows his pace.

Gabriel charges headlong into the fray his blade ringing as he engages a male angel, pulling him off of Castiel. The clash of blades is loud in the relative silence of heaven Sam watches anxiously, but before long, he gets the impression that the resistance is half-hearted at best. At a lull in the fighting, Gabriel flares his newly molted wings. They are immense, easily spanning six feet across the corridor. He raises them high above his head and the blue-white light of grace flashes in his eyes.

“Fall back!” Gabriel commands. “I am Gabriel, the strength of God and leader of the heavenly armies. I command you to stand down, or die.”

Sam bites his lip. Gabriel looks and sounds terrifying. It’s no surprise that the four angels still standing bow their heads, put their swords away and back down as Gabriel moves towards them, leading Sam and a visibly exhausted Castiel behind him.

Sam feels a tugging sensation and a wave of dizziness washes over him. He falters, shakes his head.

“Sam?” Gabriel is by his side in an instant. “Sam are you…oh…” He grips Sam’s arm. “It’s okay, they’re bringing you back…”

“I—I’m…” Everything lurches violently sideways. Sam groans.

“It’ll be okay,” Gabriel says. His voice sounds the way that Dean’s used to when they were kids playing with tin can telephones. Reedy, distant, conveyed over a length of string.

“Gabriel…Ga…” And everything goes black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dean sits at the kitchen table, a bottle of Jack in one hand, and an unused glass in front of him. He drinks straight from the bottle. It can’t have been more than a couple of minutes since Bobby ushered him from the living room. Dean has downed at least four shots in that time.

“Ya wanna slow down there, son?” Bobby eyes him from across the table, concerned.

Dean shakes his head, tips the neck of the bottle to his lips again.

A resounding clap of thunder above the house, followed by a high pitched whining stops him in mid swallow. Outside, people shout alarms, and running feet pound across the yard. Lights flicker inside the house a couple of globes shatter. If there had been any glass in the windows, Dean supposes they would have smashed too.

“That’s never a good thing,” he remarks. He gets to his feet.

“What is it?” Bobby stands up too. “Angels?”

“Archangels…” Dean bolts for the lounge. He’s drawing his gun midstride as he bursts into the room.

Axel is bent over Sam, administering CPR.

“Is he…” Dean’s words are drowned by the whining which increases to painful levels. He shakes his head, nauseous and dizzied by the assault on his senses. If Axel hears him, he gives no sign of it, all of his attention focused on Sam.

A rush of wind sweeps through the room. Books, papers, even a chair are tossed about by its force and then, an impact. A sound like rushing wings and Gabriel appears in the room. A moment later, Cas is there. He sways on his feet for a moment and then collapses to the floor.

Dean goes to the seraph, hunkers down and puts a hand on Castiel’s arm. “Cas?”

“I’m…fine,” the seraph rasps. “Sam…”

Dean glances towards Axel. “Is he all right?”

Axel frowns as he hooks a stethoscope into his ears. He presses the diaphragm to Sam’s chest, listening. “I’ve got a pulse,” he says and huffs a relieved breath. “He’s back.”

Dean feels tension leech out of his shoulders as he watches the rise and fall of Sam’s breathing. He looks at Gabriel. “Judging by that entrance, you found the charger and got juiced up.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” Gabriel shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a little hard to rein in right now. I’ll try to be more discreet.” The sarcasm in his voice is obvious.

Dean is about to reply when Sam groans and stirs on the sofa and all of Dean’s attention is focused on his brother. “Sammy?”

“Gabriel…” Sam murmurs.

Dean frowns and glances at the archangel who smirks and moves to Sam’s side, taking hold of his hand. “I’m here, Sammich.”

Dean shuffles his feet, bows his head, listens to the quiet murmuring between Sam and Gabriel. Then he clears his throat and glances around the room. Castiel is on his feet, he looks shaky but apart from some healing bruises, unscathed. Dean lets out a breath. He’s relieved that both Sam and Castiel have come back mostly whole, but he feels a little like the fifth wheel. “Cas,” he says quietly.

Castiel looks at him and Dean indicates with a jerk of his head, for the seraph to follow him. He’s almost to the door when Sam calls his name.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Dean smiles at his little brother. He keeps it low-key. No need to let Sam cotton on that Dean felt set aside, after all.

Sam sits up, shrugging off Axel’s restraining hand. “Dean…” There’s a world of unspoken messages in that one syllable.

Dean goes to him like he always has. Like he always will. Sam only has to say his name.


	34. Epilogue and Author's Comments

If you have read this far, I want to sincerely thank you for staying with me whilst I got this out of my head. It has been a longish ride and I was a little slow a couple of times to post an update, but also, this story was written faster than most for me. It took turns and twists that I had not expected when I first got the idea. It was less dark than I expected, too. Perhaps,  that is down to Gabriel. He doesn't seem to be capable of navel gazing for too long before he cracks some witty piece of snarky humor to lighten the mood--I love that about him!

I know I have left a lot of ends untied in this story, and I apologize for that, but it just seemed like the right place to end this arc. It was more about Sam and Gabriel and their relationship than about what was happening in canon or even in this story arc.

Of course, the story of Gabriel and Sam is not finished. There will be more about them. Just this arc is done for now because I don't think I could write Dean allowing Michael to possess him without having Bobby, or Mary or CAS kill him for being too stupid to live.

Jack kind of faded out of this story without another mention. "Out to buy milk" as we say in Australia--based on a character from a popular TV show here who went out to buy milk one episode and was never seen nor mentioned again!

I want to heal Cas, and I want to tell some more of the backstory I have for him, too. About how and why he is Castiel but his brothers all call him Cassie. Those are for other tales however. I may put the chapter where Crowley took Shadow Cas's grace into its own story.

Again, thank you for your perseverance and for indulging my writerly whims.

Til next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are bunny food and make them breed faster! ;)


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